Love is Patient
by Sheherazade's Fable
Summary: Charles always believed, if he was patient, his sister would come back to him. Kurt always believed that he would never truly be abandoned. In some ways, they were both right. Post X-Men DOFP. Cannon pairings.
1. Chapter 1

Charles looked down at the itinerary for the tenth annual genetics conference in his hands. It was very straightforward, no particular surprises. He doubted he would see anything new at the conference, but he knew it was a good way to keep his contacts open.

He leaned back in his wheelchair and looked up at the ceiling. He'd been to the inaugural conference and some small part of him wondered if it had really been that long, just where the years had gone.

The rest of him knew exactly where they had gone. They'd been poured into rebuilding his school, training up the next generation of mutants to guide their species into the twentieth century. It had been too many years since he'd been a young man earning the title of "Professor."

He'd once remarked to Alex that he was a different man now. Alex, who had just recently returned from Vietnam, had agreed, saying that man had had hair. His former student had laughed when he spoke, but he'd seen a look in his eyes that showed Charles just how much he understood.

After all, Alex was no longer the brash teen who had called Hank names. His time at the school had changed him, and Vietnam had killed what little remained of his flippant attitude towards violence. He was still too reckless and cocky for his own good, but there was a soberness there too. Charles wished it had come from another source, but he also knew it was rare everyone got what they wanted.

Taking charge of his brother had also changed Alex, although this change had been wholly for the better. Alex had been estranged from his parents when they died, but he had still been in contact with his brother. Alex had stepped forward as his guardian, shortly before Scott had manifested his powers. He'd immediately been brought to the Institute, and Alex had forged another link with the school. He'd even started teaching physical education there.

Now that Scott was seventeen, it was another reminder to Charles of all the time that had passed, all the hopes he had lost. Sometimes he'd wake up in the middle of the night, just staring at the ceiling, feeling like he was missing something.

And, of course, he was missing something, or someone. He hadn't seen Erik in years, and Charles hadn't quite decided if that was a good thing or a bad thing. The X-men had reformed, they'd had to after what had happened in Washington, but the Brotherhood had been silent for years. Erik played a long game though, and Charles wasn't foolish enough to think he'd given up.

He hadn't seen Raven since that day either. Charles wondered more about her than he did about his friend. Where had she gone after that day? Had she gone back to Erik? Was she helping him create and implement his plans even now? Charles had no way of knowing.

Of the two of them, he'd sensed the greatest potential for change from Raven. She had been so thoughtful that day in Washington, and Charles had hoped she'd come back to him. He hadn't necessarily thought it would be anything permanent, but even a visit would mean so much to him.

Instead, the years had passed and he'd heard nothing. Every time the mutant question was brought up on the news, still unresolved after so many years, he'd waited and watched, hoping to see some sign of her. Nothing.

He opened the drawer to his desk and put the itinerary in his desk. These thoughts were not conducive to a focused mind, and there was still quite a bit of work left to do before he left. Hank, his most faithful student, would be coming in in a few minutes to discuss some last minute preparations.

Just before Charles closed his desk drawer, he saw the photo of Raven he kept there. It was positioned in such a way that, every time he opened the drawer, he saw her face staring up at him.

He was glad no one else was able to see it. Hank would no doubt give him a pitying glance and Alex would say he was torturing himself. Charles didn't see it as torture though, or even as pain. It was simply a reminder that, if he was patient, and he never gave up on her, she might return to him one day in some form or another.

And, if there was one thing Charles had learned how to be in the past two decades or so, it was how to be patient.

* * *

Kurt sank down onto the cold cobblestones, his head in his hands. He wasn't sure if anyone was still chasing him anymore. He didn't hear anyone, but he wasn't foolish enough to think that meant they'd given up.

He took in a shuddering breath. He'd never been this exhausted, not even after a show. That had been fun, and his movements had been light. Now, when he ran, his feet sounded like a crashing weight on every cobblestone. His heart had thudded in time with each footstep, exhausted from doing so many teleportations in such a short amount of time. It was like his own body was trying to betray them.

His own thoughts were pressing down on him too.

 _Freak._

 _Unnatural._

 _Demon._

 _Sinner._

 _Monster._

They were words he'd heard all his life, muttered behind his back or spoken as a silent accusation in the eyes of his audience. There had been occasions when they'd been said straight to his face, and he'd tried not to pay them any heed. Tonight though, for the first time, he was starting to believe them.

 _Monster. MONSTER._

Kurt bit into his lip and bowed his head even further. His six fingers were starting to dig into his head, and he was grateful for the pain. It couldn't even begin to match the pain in his heart, but it was something. He deserved to be in pain.

He pressed his back further against the wall of the church he'd taken sanctuary behind. He couldn't go in, not with what had happened that evening. God might love all of his children, but Kurt hadn't felt like one of God's children that day. He was starting to feel alone, forsaken, punished.

A lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to breath. Kurt swallowed, wishing he could simply cry. Most of his tears had been exhausted in the past few hours. His throat felt dry and scratchy, and his eyes were burning.

The past few hours had been a blur. However, the only minutes that really mattered stuck in his head, refusing to be forgotten or erased. There was no forgetting them, and they seemed to repeat themselves, mocking him for what he had done.

His thoughts went to Stefan, the brother he'd never had. As children Stefan had been the tough one, the one who had once punched a boy for snickering at Kurt's tail. Yes, Stefan had had a temper, but Kurt had always known that he'd had a good heart. He'd always been sure Stefan meant well.

Even as a child Kurt had looked up to Stefan. He'd been six years older than him and Kurt always knew he could count on him. As for Stefan, he'd once told Kurt that he would trust him with his life. Kurt had spent so much of his early adulthood trying to make himself worthy of that honor.

And now he'd failed. He'd failed Stefan, failed himself, his God and the woman he loved. He felt another sob choke him. Amanda. Where was she? Did she know, or did she have another few hours of blissful ignorance ahead of her?

He buried his head further in his hands. Kurt had loved Amanda for as long as he could remember. As a child he had seen his affection for her as a given, like the sky being blue or the grass being green. They'd been together almost since the hour of their birth, and Kurt had assumed they would always be together in some form or another.

As he'd gotten older, and he'd matured, that deep affection had become something else. By the time he was fourteen, he'd been able to put a name to his love for her, to understand it and he dared to hope that she felt the same.

Now, at eighteen, he knew what it was that existed between them. They had only been together for a year now and, for the last few months, Kurt had thought of his life as more or less perfect. He should have known it wouldn't last.

What sin had he committed that he needed to be punished in this way? Kurt wildly sought the reason, pleaded wordlessly with God to let him know, or to make the last few hours a terrible nightmare. Neither happened in the silence behind the church though, and his body shook with tears that had long since run dry.

Footsteps reached his ears and Kurt stiffened in fear. He lifted his head, barely daring to breathe. If it was any of his pursuers he'd need to teleport. He'd need to leave the town. Kurt hadn't wanted to leave without talking to Amanda, but he didn't see how he could reach her now. Not that she would listen to him, not that anyone would listen to him. He'd seen the accusation in the mob's eyes, and he'd known it was over.

Nothing he'd been able to say had convinced them that, no, that wasn't how things had happened. And why shouldn't they believe that? He was the monster, the aberration. No one in this small neighborhood outside of West Berlin would believe anything he had to say. He should have expected nothing less.

He took another breath and prepared to teleport. He'd wait until the last minute to give himself the maximum distance between himself and his pursuer. Kurt let his hands fall from his head and hang limply by his side, preparing for what came next.

But when Amanda rounded the corner, he felt all thoughts flee his head. She looked around, her eyes wide and worried. When she spotted him Kurt thought he saw some relief creep into her features, but he didn't dare hope.

"Kurt?" she whispered.

He looked away. He didn't dare look at her after what happened. Kurt should teleport away, leave before she got too close, before he saw the accusation in her eyes too. It would be better for everyone that way.

Instead he stayed, frozen to the spot. He felt her hands slip around his cheeks, tilt his head up until he was forced to look her in the eyes. They were red and puffy, as was the rest of her face. Amanda's lower lip was red from being bitten, a habit they both shared.

"Kurt," she whispered, "Please...just..."

She swallowed and took a shuddering breath.

"Please just tell me what happened," she begged, "And don't lie. Please."

It should have been more difficult to explain, to narrate what had been the worst day of his life. Instead, the words tumbled from his lips, thick with emotion at times, dead at others. It had always seemed impossible to deny Amanda anything.

With every word he spoke, he could see Amanda crumble a little more, feel her hands shake on his cheeks. When he stopped talking, he looked for the accusation, the sorrow and betrayal he was sure he'd see reflected on her face.

Instead there was nothing but compassion and a grief that matched his own. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him so close his face was buried in her golden hair. He felt her tears on his neck, and every part of his being trembled.

"I believe you," she whispered.

His limbs trembling, Kurt tentatively wrapped his arms around her, needing to see if she was real. And as Kurt held her, he knew that, no, he hadn't been forsaken.


	2. Chapter 2

The pounding in Kurt's ears had almost drowned out the noise of his pursuers. The path in front of him was dark, made even more so from the sunglasses he wore to cover his golden eyes. Sweat trickled out from under his hood, streaming down behind the sunglasses on his face and into the scarf wrapped around his mouth and nose.

It followed tear trails that had only been abandoned a few hours ago because the necessity of flight had overpowered it. He hadn't expected they would be followed this far, but few things had gone right since Amanda had found him.

They were only a few steps ahead of their pursuers, and only because Amanda had thought to get him clothes that would cover his identity. Kurt didn't ask where she'd gotten the hooded sweaters, glasses and scarves.

There had been several groups, some of them waiting at the entrance to the port city. Perhaps they should have called the police but, given their circumstances, that wouldn't have been the best idea.

Margali had taught them that the police couldn't be trusted anyway. She'd said that generations of her family, of her gypsy clan, of the circus had dealt with their own problems. They didn't look for outsiders to intervene, and involving Amanda had already been bad enough.

Now she led him on. Usually she wasn't faster than him, but he'd been teleporting them for a long time. It was difficult when he could only teleport to where he could see, and the sulfur had begun filling Amanda's lungs after eight separate teleportations. He'd realized it wasn't safe for him to continue.

She led him into a side alley and pulled him down from behind so they weren't visible over the crates. Amanda wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his back, no doubt trying to quiet her panted breaths. He put his hands around his mouth, pressing the scarf wrapped around his face deeper into his skin. He needed to quiet his breathing too.

Footsteps hurried past them. Amanda's fingers dug into his shoulder. He was surprised that he could still feel the pain that they caused. He'd thought that he would be too numb for such things. He'd been so numb all evening, for the past two days, numb with shame and grief.

The noise of their pursuers died away, but he knew that they weren't far away. They had only bought themselves a temporary reprieve. Kurt pulled the scarf from his face and took his sunglasses off. It was pointless trying to conceal who he was now, and he didn't want the dark lenses of the glasses obscuring his view of Amanda.

She looked up, meeting his eyes. Her golden hair, which she had shoved hastily into her hood, was sticking to her face. He could see exhaustion and fear in her expression, but he knew that the terror wasn't for herself. Kurt reached out a trembling hand and put it on her cheek. She swallowed and put her hand on the outside of his, squeezing it.

There were unshed tears in his love's eyes, but so was the fierceness he had always associated with her. She said nothing for a moment, just held onto his hand.

"Do you think you can teleport again?" she asked.

"Perhaps once more," he replied.

His voice was as low as hers, trying to speak as quietly as possible while still allowing her to hear.

"Perhaps?" she asked.

She peeked over the tops of the crates.

"I can see the ship from here," she said.

Kurt boosted himself up, silently calculating the distance.

"It's a long way to walk, but, maybe, if you could teleport-" she began.

"I don't think I can."

Amanda looked at him, her eyes filled with disbelief. Then she took a look at the exhaustion on his face, the way that he was slumped forward, perhaps even listening to the way he was breathing. Amanda's jaw tightened.

She gave one last look at the ship, and then slipped back behind the crates.

"You need to get to the ship," she murmured.

"We need to get there," he corrected.

She looked at him, and Kurt instantly understood the intent in her blue eyes.

"No," he said.

"Kurt, you need to go without me," Amanda said.

"I'm not leaving you," he said.

"They won't hurt me," she said.

"You don't know that."

She didn't answer, probably because she knew he was right. But instead of acknowledging his point, she began digging in the pockets of her hooded sweatshirt. He thought he saw her blinking back tears.

"You can get onto the ship easy enough," Amanda said, "Just teleport the rest of the distance, or as close as you can. Once you're inside, bar the door."

"Amanda, I don't even know where I'm going," said Kurt.

"America. Once you get there it's going to be difficult, but I know you're smart," she murmured, her voice thick, "But I think that-"

"Amanda," said Kurt.

He moved his other hand to cup her cheeks. She looked at him, those tears still making her eyes glossy.

"Kurt," she whispered softly, "This...we're not going to be able to make it to that ship together. If you only think you can teleport some of the way, you can't bring two."

"I won't leave you," he said, "I...I can't."

His voice choked. A few tears escaped Amanda's eyes, and his vision began to blur.

"I know," she said, "God, Kurt, this feels like...I've never..."

Amanda didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.

"If I act as a distraction," she whispered, "you might have a chance of making it."

She took a grubby envelope out of her pocket and placed it into his hands. It was crinkled from age and its time in Amanda's pocket.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I found it in my mom's desk when I was looking for my locket one day," she said, "Tucked tightly behind some other papers. I was going to show it to you before..."

She bit her lip.

"Never mind," she said, "You need to get there, because I think it'll be safe. I already know the address."

Kurt stared at her. Amanda's plan was a good one, made all the better for how quickly she had been able to come up with it. He'd seen her strength before that night, but he'd never seen this side of her, this determined pain.

He never wanted to see it again.

 _God, why?_ he prayed.

Was this some sort of a test? It seemed likely, but it was becoming more than he could bear. Kurt had never known what his limits were, but in the last few days, he had discovered more about what he was and was not capable of more than he had preferred.

Amanda looked up at him, and his mind was once again brought back to reality by the look in her eyes.

"You get yourself there, and I'll find you," she murmured. "I'll be there by Christmas at the latest. Just keep an eye out for me."

"I can't," Kurt begged her.

 _Let this cup pass from me._

"You can," she said, "You have to."

She breathed out.

"Kurt, if anything happens to you..."

Her voice began to break. Kurt suddenly realized that she was praying the same prayers as him, the ones that pleaded with God not to do this to her, not to force her make this decision. It made him love her all the more, and his heart broke for it.

After tonight, he would never have to wonder how she felt towards him. He would have given anything for this knowledge two years ago, maybe even a few weeks ago, but now it seemed like a thimbleful of balm on a wound he was hemorrhaging from.

"I can't lose you both," Amanda said.

Kurt wanted to break down into sobs. He wanted to let the mob get him, because it was no less than he deserved. He'd done this, this was his fault. She was crying earnestly now, and Kurt gave in too. It felt like he was just lancing the wound, letting a small corner of his pain spill from his eyes. But he wanted to cry with her, the only person who could ever come close to understanding how he felt.

He reached behind her neck, digging his fingers into her sweaty golden hair, and pressed her forehead to his. The air tasted like salt, released by their sweat and tears, and he felt her arms wrap around his back, holding him close.

There were a few shouts in the distance, and Kurt realized that they didn't have much time left. Amanda must have too, because she tensed. He put the letter into his pocket, hating the one thing that gave him hope things could be different in the future.

"You need to go soon," she said.

"I know," he said.

He paused for the space of a heartbeat, and then kissed her. It was rushed and hard, his fangs clicking against her lips and teeth. He had hoped to make this kiss like the few ones they had shared before the world went to Hell. Kurt wanted to taste her, feel her warmth and sweetness, and then carry that memory with him until he saw her again.

But because of his ineptitude, because of how unused he was to kissing, and how frightened and guilty he was, the fangs cut her lip. Instead of tasting the warm sweetness he had grown so accustomed to, he tasted blood.

More tears came to his eyes as he pulled away from her. He would dream of her tasting like blood because of him, dream of everything that had happened, and Kurt was frightened at the prospect of sleep now.

Although the kiss had been clumsy, Amanda rested her hand on his cheek again.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he answered, "So much."

She took the scarf and glasses from him wordlessly. Kurt knew without asking what she was doing, that she was going to pretend to be him for the crowd to chase.

"Be careful," Kurt murmured.

"You too," she said, "I...I'll see you soon."

Without another word she jumped over the top of the crates. Kurt waited a few minutes, his face clutched in his hands. He was listening intently, and he heard the shouts soon enough. There was the sound of running feet, and Kurt felt like vomiting.

But the shouts and sounds of pursuit died soon enough. Kurt looked over the top of the crates and saw the ship. In a flash of black smoke, he teleported. He fell short of his target, but he'd known he would do that.

Pulling up his hood, he limped the rest of the way towards the ship. He handed them his ticket, keeping his head down. They didn't look too closely, and he made his way to the tiny cabin he had planned to share with Amanda.

Once inside, he bolted the door and leaned up against it. His burden shoved him downwards, and this time Amanda wasn't there to tell him things would be alright. He slid down to the floor, his body feeling weak and useless, crippled by the weight of the sin and shame he felt within him. Kurt wondered vaguely if there was a tattoo he could get for this.

Just as absently, he pulled the letter out of his pocket and read through his tears.

 _Margali,_

 _This is Kurt. You know whose son he is. Please take care of him. You know that I can't. If he's ever in danger, take him to 1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York. It's where his uncle, Charles Xavier, lives._

 _\- M_


	3. Chapter 3

Amanda reached for the key to the trailer, breathing heavily. Although she'd tried not to think about it, she knew that her knees were scuffed up. Every step reminded her of the long slashes on her legs, the tears in her jeans.

There were bruises up and down her arms, and the muscles there were screaming. Her hands were shaking so much that she was having difficulty getting the key into the lock. She couldn't tell if the cause was pain or the rolling emotions in her stomach.

"Goddammit," she muttered.

She could almost feel Kurt's disapproving look. If he was there he would no doubt tell her not to take the Lord's name in vain. But he wasn't with her, and the sledgehammer that had hung over her head since bidding him farewell threatened to fall.

With the same sense of resiliency she had used to tell him to run, she pushed the thoughts away. Amanda finally managed to get the key in the lock and open the door. She stepped inside, taking the key out almost immediately and shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was inside she threw the bolt behind her.

Amanda slowly touched her forehead to the door. The cool wood felt reassuring, and she splayed her hand out flat on the wood. She was home, she was safe. Nothing was going to harm her. Kurt would be safe in America now, if he'd caught the boat.

She immediately quashed the thought. Of course he had made the boat. The only way he wouldn't have is if he'd refused to leave without her. It would have been just like Kurt to try to play the noble hero and get himself killed for it.

Luckily though, it looked as though he'd taken her sacrifice, and her instructions, to heart. He hadn't been there to help her over the roofs, to save her when she miscalculated the distance to the drainpipe. As though just now remembering, the pain in her back flared up again. Amanda had been lucky that she'd been taught how to fall and minimize damage as a child.

No. He was in America, far away from those freaks who wanted to kill him. She was back at the circus. In the next few days, she knew that cops were going to come with questions. She'd lied to the cops in the past for her co-workers though, and she could do it again.

A tight, grim smile appeared on her lips. The danger had, more or less passed. First she would allow that sledgehammer to drop tonight, to cry for her brother and the man she loved. When the morning came, she would wipe her tears and steel herself for the next few days.

After she got rid of the cops she had to figure out a way to get to America by Christmas. She'd be eighteen then, so it wouldn't be a legal barrier. She'd have to get enough money. All of her funds had been exhausted getting Kurt out of the country.

All of this went through her head in seconds. The details could wait until tomorrow though. Now though, now she had a moment to herself. A moment to let the impact, and the ramifications, of what she'd done wash over her and-

"You're home late."

She started as the light came on. Her mother was seated on the edge of her bed. Her eyes were fixed on her, not in the indulgent way they did when she came in late, but in the sharp way that had terrified Amanda as a child.

Amanda felt her mother's hawk-like gaze sweep her from head to toe. No doubt she saw where her jeans were torn, the dirt on her hands, the dried sweat on her face. She swallowed and composed herself.

"I'm seventeen," Amanda said calmly, "I can stay out late."

She looked at the clock on the wall of the trailer.

"Or early, as the case may be," she said.

Her mother tilted her head.

"Some police from Berlin called me last night," she said, "They told me that Stefan was found dead in his house on the city's outskirts, his neck snapped."

Her mother's voice held none of the grief Amanda had expected. There was something else there, a kind of simmering rage that was threatening to bubble to the surface. Amanda could feel apprehension building in her stomach.

"The police don't have any suspects, although one of them was kind enough to throw in the local rumor that a demon did it," her mother said. "A demon who could vanish."

And suddenly Amanda realized what was going on.

"They discounted them, of course, although they said some of the locals were rather vehement that that's what happened," her mother continued, "That and the demon had been killing several children in the area but, again, they dismissed that."

Her mother smiled then, a strange, twisted expression.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?" her mother asked.

Amanda swallowed again. No point in denying it.

"Of course," she said.

Silence stretched between the two of them. Amanda searched herself for whatever strength was left over from the past few days.

"Whatever you want to say," she said, "Say it. Say it and then let me speak."

If possible, her mother's eyes narrowed further.

"You helped him," her mother hissed, "You helped him get away."

Her mother's hands tangled in the blanket on the bed.

"He murdered your brother," she said, "And you helped him get away."

Amanda drew herself up, tried to give her mother what compassion she could. Like strength, it was another thing that she had to search herself for. So many of her emotional reserves were drained that she had trouble feeling anything at all.

But she would have to explain what had happened that day, and in doing that, she couldn't risk losing her temper with her mother. Even if her mother had automatically assumed the worst case scenario.

That thought made Amanda want to cry. No. Her mother had imagined one of two worst case scenarios. The truth would hurt her, just like it had hurt Amanda, but it was the truth. Amanda had lived with it for the past few days, as had Kurt. Now it was time for someone else to shoulder that burden too.

"You little whore."

Her mother's words jerked her back to reality. A deep flush spread across her face and spark flared up inside her. Her answer came back, untempered by the compassion she'd been seeking so desperately.

"What?" she said, her voice low.

"You heard me," her mother said, "He was your brother."

"I haven't forgotten," Amanda said.

"Haven't you?"

Amanda folded her arms over her chest. It just exacerbated the aches in them, but she needed to put something in between herself and the cold woman in front of her.

"I know what it looks like," she said, "But you know me. If Kurt had murdered Stefan in cold blood, do you think I would have let him get away?"

"I think you answered that question two nights ago," her mother said.

"No, I didn't, because the question never came up," Amanda said.

"I should've known you would've sided with him," her mother said.

Her voice was filled with disgust.

"I should have let him die on our doorstep," she said, "Mystique and Azazel be damned, I should have let him die."

Amidst the swirling emotions in the room, her mind latched onto those names.

"Are those his parents?" she asked.

Her mother looked up and laughed bitterly.

"Who cares?" she asked, "I hope they're both rotting in hell right now. Kurt was always asking who they were. He can ask them when he goes there which, because of you, won't be when it should."

"You need to stop," Amanda said.

"Or what?" her mother said, "It won't be so bad for him. You'll be joining him too for what you did, and that's all he ever wanted, wasn't it? To be around you?"

Her voice became a sneer.

"Was that how this started?" she said.

"You've gone from being cruel to being stupid," Amanda said.

She was surprised at how cold her voice sounded when she spoke. The flames of her rage and frustration were burning so brightly within her she'd been sure the heat would come out in her voice.

"If I recall, you're the one who didn't want me with Kurt," Amanda said, "Stefan was all for it. Do you remember what he said? Do you-?"

"Don't you dare say your brother's name," her mother hissed, "You don't deserve it."

"I deserve it more than you do," said Amanda.

Her mother got to her feet, but Amanda wasn't afraid. She wasn't a little girl her mother could intimidate or put to bed early for being naughty. A week ago, Amanda had been convinced that she was all grown up. After everything that had happened, she felt like she had aged ten years, that the her from a week ago really was just a child.

In some ways her mother was right about Amanda and hell. Of course, she didn't think that she was going there. No, she knew that she had been there for the past two nights, struggling for every breath, every footstep.

And, just like her mother had predicted, Kurt had been there too. His agony had been three times that of her own, and it made her shudder to think about the pure despair in his eyes when she'd finally found him in Berlin.

"Do you want to know the truth?" she said, "You know Kurt, and you know Stefan. Kurt would die before he hurt Stefan-"

"Evidently not," her mother said.

"-and Stefan loved Kurt," Amanda said, refusing to be interrupted, "But it's easy to forget all this and take the easy way out, because actually thinking about it might result in something too difficult to handle. Do you want to know what really happened?"

"Don't you dare," her mother warned.

Amanda let her hands fall to her sides. They clenched into fists reflexively.

"Because Stefan wasn't the only one who died that night," Amanda said, "So much of Kurt died too, because he tried to do something you wouldn't have the strength to do, something you would close your eyes to, because you're weak, because you believe what you want to believe instead of-"

The slap did not come as a total surprise. That didn't mean it hurt any less though. Her injured legs, already exhausted, made her stumble back into the door. Amanda lost balance and slid down it. One of her hands touched the tender flesh of her cheek and looked up at her mother.

Amanda saw no traces of regret in her mother's face, no remorse. All she saw was fury.

"You're no daughter of mine," she said.

The statement left Amanda speechless. Then she thought of golden eyes, pleading with her to understand, but believing that she wouldn't. She remembered her own resolve, born from days bent over rosary beads, games of tag under the big top between the three of them, and Kurt's lips pressing uncertainly, but so hopefully, to hers one night in autumn.

"Fine," she said, getting to her feet, "Fine. I'm not your daughter."

She turned away from her mother, thinking about the attic in the big top where she could spend the night, catch a few hours of sleep. Falling apart would have to wait it seemed. Amanda needed to get as far away from her mother as possible.

"Just remember something. If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off," Amanda said softly, her hand on the doorknob, "It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out."

"That's what I'm doing," her mother said.

"No," Amanda said, opening the door, "It's what I've done. What I'm doing now."

She slammed the door behind her, heading towards the circus tent. Despite the stinging in her eyes, she refused to look back.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** Sorry for the mix-up. Here's today's chapter._

* * *

When the boat docked, Kurt had pulled his shirt around his mouth, pulled his hood down as far as it could go, and then headed to the upper deck. He'd caught quick glimpses of a crowded city, buildings stretching high into the sky.

He'd glimpsed the Statue of Liberty a few minutes before. It had been strange to see it there, reaching up towards the sky. Kurt had seen it in movies and on TV, but seeing it in front of him had been so surreal.

As soon as they had approached the docks, he'd teleported to the top of the nearest building. After three days of staying in his cabin, only occasionally sneaking out late at night for food, he was in decent shape to teleport.

He hadn't gotten much sleep in the past few days. There had only been one night that he had managed to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time. Amanda's arms had been around him then, and he'd felt safe and protected by her love. When his mind had been fuzzy, he'd absently thought that, if she still loved him, perhaps he hadn't done what he'd done. Perhaps it had all been a terrible dream.

But reality was reality, and as much as he would like to pretend that nothing had happened, the truth was that something had. It was why he couldn't stay in Germany, why he was now standing on the rooftop of a building in New York.

He cast his eyes to the north. He'd gotten a map on the boat, and he knew Westchester county was a long way away from New York City. Amanda had told him they would find refuge in America and, in her own way, she had been right. She had been so adamant that it could be done, that they could make it if they were careful.

Kurt smiled sadly at the thought. Amanda had always been so calm, so certain. He'd envied that in the past few days, but he'd been so grateful for everything else that it had been swallowed up. He hoped that, wherever she was now, she was alright. He hoped he would see her soon too, although he knew he didn't deserve it.

But public transportation was barred for him. Kurt took his hood off, pulled down his shirt, and looked over the city. Usually his appearance wouldn't be such a big deal, but he knew what happened when he left the circus. People were hostile to him, and that was when someone from Amanda's family or the circus had been with him.

He didn't know what would happen if he was alone. It had never really come up, but he supposed that someone would call the police. The last thing he needed was to get involved with the police right now.

That was another uncomfortable realization. He'd never been alone before. Someone had always been with him and, even when he had been alone, someone else was within calling distance. If he needed someone, he could always find them.

Now he was on his way to find a man whose only connection was a woman who had abandoned him. The fact that he even had an uncle, one Margali had never told him about, shocked him. Why had his mother told him to go to his uncle if he was in trouble, but she hadn't left him with him? Would his uncle be willing to help, or would he flinch away in disgust when he saw him?

Kurt tried to rationalize these fears. His mother had known what he looked like, and she wouldn't have directed him to someone who would just run away from him. Then again, what did he know about the woman who had left him on Margali's doorstep all those years ago?

A cool breeze ruffled his hair, and he sighed. None of these thoughts helped. Right now he needed to stick with the plan and, on Christmas, he would hopefully see Amanda again. They could figure out what to do from there.

Besides, public transport probably wasn't realistic. He only had twenty-five dollars on him anyway, which might be enough to buy food. Kurt would have to teleport there, and probably spend some nights sleeping in the woods. That wasn't a problem: he'd done that before.

He paused for another moment, looking over the city. New York was supposed to be beautiful, and maybe this was the only time he would see it. Kurt tried to see what everyone else saw, but his heart was too heavy. At the moment, all he saw was heavy gray buildings.

Sighing, Kurt pulled up his shirt and hood. He teleported further up, staying on the rooftops. Maybe people would see him teleporting, but he would be far away by the time they called the police or a radio station.

He'd been doing this for a few minutes when he took a momentary break. He'd been a little more tired than he'd thought he would be, and he leaned against the wall. Maybe he should have tried to get more sleep but it wasn't as though it would have helped.

As he caught his breath, he took another look around him. To his surprise, he realized that there was a church across from him, beautiful and solid in what he recognized was a rundown city. The sign in front of it identified it as a Catholic Church.

Guiltily, Kurt tried to remember whether or not it was Sunday. The days had all blurred together on the boat. After a long time he realized it was Tuesday, which was some relief, but not much.

He reached inside his pocket and touched his rosary. It was one of the few things that he'd been able to take from his home before fleeing. It had been a gift from Margali when he was seven, the beads then shiny and new.

"Amanda will inherit one from my great-great-grandmother," Margali had said, "Stefan from his great-great-grandfather. You will inherit nothing, so this one is new. One day, you can give it to your great-great-grandchildren."

Margali had meant well, but at the time it had only impressed in his mind that he was not part of the family. One of his earliest memories was her telling him not to call her mother, that he wasn't her son. She had made sure that he knew he was a Wagner, not a Szardos.

Margali had been kind to him growing up, but sometimes that kindness had been strained. She had made sure that every new family that came to the circus knew he was her ward, not her son. Sometimes he'd wondered why she had gone to such great pains, if the idea that someone might accidentally think he was her son was so abhorrent.

Still, there were some good things that had happened as a result of the barrier that Margali had created. If she hadn't, Amanda would have been his sister and loving her like he did would have been a sin. It was still a little painful to remember the nights he'd spent as a child wondering just where it was he came from though.

Still lost in his thoughts, Kurt saw the door to the church open. A man with dark glasses and a cane walked out, followed closely by a priest. The man with the cane paused for a minute, and then looked upwards.

Although the man was looking right at him he didn't feel frightened. It was clear, even from a distance, that the man was blind. The man paused for a moment, and Kurt thought that the priest said something. The man shook his head and walked on.

A moment later the priest walked back into the church. Kurt looked at the stone walls and stain glass. His hand began running over his rosary beads. He probably shouldn't stop, shouldn't reveal himself to others. The plan was to press on to Westchester and get there as quickly as possible.

He swallowed and looked at the stain glass saints. He needed comfort, and the only person of flesh and blood who could give it to him was in Germany. Now that she was gone, there was only one person he could count on to at least listen. It was the only person he'd been able to count on his entire life, the only person who might ever consider him his son.

Kurt bit his lip. It was against his better judgment, but he quickly looked down and scanned the street. It was deserted. He teleported down to the street, right outside the doors. He hesitated, but he had already come this far.

Kurt pushed the door open and found the church empty. Maybe that was for the best. It would give him a few minutes of peace with God, and then he could leave before anyone knew that he was there.

There was a shuffling in the corner, and he realized that the confessional was occupied. Fear briefly seized him, but then he reconsidered. The confessional was secret. He inched towards the booth, chewing on his lip nervously, his tail switching back and forth.

Finally he let out a breath and walked towards the confessional. He slipped inside, making just enough noise so that the priest knew he was there.

"Bless me fazzer, for I haf sinned," he said, the words spilling out of him in his heavily-accented English, "Mein last confession vaz last Tuesday."

Last Tuesday. That was only six days ago. How had things gone so very wrong since then?

"Und...und..."

The words choked and died in his throat. He swallowed. This had been a bad idea. It was like even his tongue wanted to forget what had happened, was refusing to let him speak of it.

He took another deep, shuddering breath.

"Seferal days ago, I vent out to visit someone zat I cared about fery much," Kurt said, "He vas...a fery, fery good friend to me. I did not haf many friends growing up, don't haf many now."

Kurt began drumming his hands on his legs, his tail twitching absently. He'd never been able to sit still, even when he was young.

"I vent vith my girlfriend," he said, "It vas going to be a visit together. He vas her brozzer. It vas supposed to be fun, ja? Just get avay for a little bit. Mein girlfriend had been fighting vith her mozzer und, vell, you know."

The words were coming a little easier, but he could still feel that ball of anxiety winding tighter and tighter in his gut. Kurt could hear the priest's patient expectation, no doubt wanting to give him his time, waiting for him to explain.

"Und she left ze house to run some errands," Kurt said, "I vas supposed to go vith her, but zere vas an incident, und I vent back alone."

The priest probably thought they'd had a fight. There was no point in telling him that he'd been uncomfortable because of all the stares, the way people had crossed themselves when he'd come into the town. He'd never gotten such a violent reaction before.

"I got back, und I saw...I saw..." he said.

Horror strangled his next words. No. His mind had barely been able to comprehend what he'd seen then. How could he tell it to a stranger, even if that stranger was a priest? He squeezed his eyes shut, and said what he'd been dreading to say, because saying that was somehow easier than saying what he'd seen.

"I killed him," he choked out.

"What?" the priest asked, sounding slightly alarmed, "Who?"

"Stefan," Kurt whispered, "Her brozzer. My friend. I killed him."


	5. Chapter 5

Kurt kept his head down and checked the map he'd gotten from a small stall in New York City. The last two days had been exhausting. The last time he'd been inside a building was that church he'd passed, and that wasn't a particularly pleasant memory.

Nor was it unpleasant. He wasn't sure why he had stopped there, burdened a priest with something he couldn't seek absolution for. The priest had been oddly calm about his confession though, and answered in a tone that was both sympathetic and knowledgeable. Did murderers often come to that church for confession?

Kurt shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. He regretted it immediately. His hair was filthy, and he knew his clothes weren't in much better shape. Kurt hadn't showered in two days, and sleeping outside would do that to you. The last of Amanda's money had gone for food and the map. Clean clothes hadn't been high on his priority list.

He'd passed a small town not that long ago. He'd considered spending the night in one of the surrounding fields, but he was so close to the address, and it wasn't terribly late. The sun wasn't even down.

As he walked, he thought back to the note that had brought him here. All his life he hadn't known anything about his mother other than she had left him on Margali's doorstep. He hadn't even known that detail until he was ten and Margali was particularly mad at him for something. Her exasperated words, that his mother should have kept him, had stuck in his mind in a way that they weren't meant to.

Margali had, of course, apologized. She said that she'd never known his mother, that he was just a child left on a convenient doorstep. It hadn't been said with any anger or maliciousness, just like when she'd given him the rosary. It had hurt all the same.

Now he was learning that he'd had an uncle all this time. Why hadn't Margali given Kurt to him? What motive could she have had for wanting to keep Kurt with her? She hadn't thought of him as a son, he'd known that much, and she'd been certain to make sure her children knew he wasn't their brother.

At one point Kurt had planned to ask Margali, to find out the truth about his past. He doubted he'd get that chance now. However, his mother's brother, his uncle, was something. He was a tangible piece of his past, someone that his mother had thought he could go to for help.

He rounded the corner and stopped. Kurt wasn't sure what he thought his uncle's residence on Graymalkin Lane would look like. Perhaps he'd imagined some sort of country cottage, and him knocking tentatively on the door.

He hadn't been expecting a grand mansion. Suddenly Kurt felt uncertain. He'd known that seeking out his uncle probably wouldn't yield any fruitful results, that his chances were slim. Looking at that big house and its imposing gate, he felt those chances dwindle to zero.

Swallowing hard, he walked up to the gate. There was a plaque on the wall that read "Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters." Kurt relaxed slightly. It was a school, which meant that the size made sense.

The last name was more than a little concerning though. His uncle was in charge of the school: that much was clear. He swallowed and shifted his feet. The more he thought about it, the more he realized this had been a terrible idea.

Children were often scared of his appearance. He'd seen it enough at the circus, even when their mothers assured them he was in costume. Kurt had never had the heart to correct them. Not when the children relaxed with that simple reassurance.

So he loitered a few feet outside of the gate. He was sure he looked rather creepy, and not just because of his appearance. People who hung out just outside the gates of the school never meant anything good.

He put the map back in his pocket and took a deep breath. So maybe this wouldn't work. Maybe he would be turned away, or maybe they would call the police the moment they caught sight of his unusual appearance.

It didn't matter. Now that he was here, he had to try. Amanda was expecting to meet him here. He had to know whether or not this was a good rendezvous point. It was too dangerous to call her, but if things didn't work out here, he might have to.

However, he would wait until later. There was no point in scaring the children. He'd wait until it was around eight, when many of them would be asleep. That way, if he was turned away, no one would have to be afraid of his appearance, and no one would have nightmares.

So Kurt withdrew and waited. It wasn't easy. He had always been a little fidgety, and he knew there were quite a few thoughts running through his head. How much he should tell his uncle, should he make it that far.

He wanted to be honest, but it was so hard to think about what happened. He'd told the story to Amanda, and to the priest, but that was different. Amanda was part of his soul and the priest had been a man of God.

Kurt debated with himself for hours, back and forth. When eight o'clock rolled around, he still had no idea. However, he teleported within the walls of the house just the same. There was no point in waiting any further.

He walked up the remaining feet to the back door and knocked. At first his fist was soft against the wood, but he knocked a little more confidently after a moment. The sooner he got this over with, the better it would be for everyone.

The minutes he spent waiting seemed to have no end. As the seconds ticked by Kurt felt a sagging feeling of relief. No one was even going to open the door. That was probably a mercy when it came down to it, and more and more relief began to flood him.

Then the door opened and Kurt was momentarily blinded by the light. He saw a lean man with glasses beyond the door, giving him a frank, appraising look. He hadn't flinched away in disgust, and that was as good a start as any.

"Guten aben?" Kurt said.

He cursed himself. What was he doing speaking in German? He was about to repeat himself, in English this time, when the man spoke.

"Es ist in ordnung," the man said, smiling, "Mochten sie gerne kommen in?"

Kurt gaped. Not only had the man answered in German, but he'd also invited him in. The man continued to look at him, still giving him a friendly smile. Feeling like a fish that had been pulled onto the shore, Kurt gave a quick nod.

The man moved out of the way and Kurt stepped inside. The entrance way was opulent, more so than anything Kurt had seen outside of a museum. He began shrinking in on himself, feeling as out of place as a seashell in the desert.

"Art trifft dich das erste mal," the man said, giving him a sheepish smile.

"Oh, um, nein," Kurt said, stumbling over his words, "Vell, ja, it ist very grand, but, um..."

"You speak English?" the man asked.

Kurt nodded.

"Good," the man said, "I was starting to run out of things to say."

He held out his hand.

"My name's Dr. Hank McCoy," he said, "I teach biology, anatomy, chemistry, and earth sciences."

Kurt looked at his offered hand, staring at it. When the hand didn't move, Kurt tentatively reached out and took it. Hank didn't flinch away when Kurt's rough, three-fingered hand came into contact with his own.

"Kurt," Kurt said.

"Welcome to Xavier's Kurt," Hank said, "Have you had dinner?"

He shifted his feet.

"Vell, nein," Kurt said.

"Alright, I think we have some stuff we can heat up in the kitchen," Hank said, turning around and waving him on, "I'm not great with working the oven. Does soup work? We also have some frozen pizza if you want that."

Kurt stayed where he was. Hank paused for a moment and turned around. He was frowning. Perhaps he had expected Kurt to follow him.

"Is something wrong?" asked Hank.

He didn't answer. He was just trying to process what was happening.

"I must have rushed everything on you," Hank said, "I didn't mean to do that. But don't worry, all new arrivals are welcome. We'll figure out details in the morning, but I always found it was better to make sure everyone had some food first things first."

Kurt stared at him.

"Is something wrong?" asked Hank.

"Ja," Kurt said, "Vhat ist going on?"

"You're at Xavier's," Hank said, "And I was just trying to get you something to eat. That's all."

Kurt gestured to himself.

"Und zis doesn't shock you?" he asked.

Hank smiled, almost as though he was sharing a private joke with himself.

"Not really," he said, "Not all of our students have physical mutations, but enough do. I do too, even though it's not immediately obvious."

Kurt felt like someone had just hit him with a sledgehammer.

"Vhat?" he asked, "You haf mutants here?"

Hank's frown returned, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Yes," he said, "I assumed that's why you came here."

There was a long pause. Kurt stared at Hank, and Hank stared at Kurt.

"Zis ist eine school for mutants?" Kurt asked.

"Yes," Hank said, still looking thoughtful, "Which is what most students know when they come through the back door. And the front door. In fact, you'd be the first who came here, with or without parents, who didn't."

Kurt swallowed.

"I did not," he said.

Hank folded his arms, not in a hostile manner, but as though he were thinking.

"If you're not here for the school, then why are you here?" he asked.

"I um, vell, you see..." he said.

Vainly, Kurt thought of what he'd practiced while waiting for it to get dark. He'd had all these things to say, but they all seemed very trivial and silly now. The knowledge that the school was a school for mutants killed everything else.

"I vanted to see Herr Xavier," he said at last.

"The Professor's out right now," Hank said, "He'll be back in a few days."

"Oh," Kurt said.

Despite the relief that had coursed through him when no one answered the door, he felt strangely deflated when he heard the news.

"What did you have to tell him?" asked Hank.

Swallowing, Kurt reached into his pocket and took out the note Amanda had given him. He smoothed it out.

"Um, mien mutter wrote zis vhen I vas very young," he said, "Und I, vell..."

He trailed off again and handed Hank the note. Hank quickly scanned it. Kurt watched as the color drained from his face. When he looked back at Kurt, Kurt could see he was searching for something, his calm exterior rapidly peeling away.

"I can see the resemblance," he murmured, "I um..."

For a moment, there was silence once again. Then Hank handed him back the note and put a hand on his shoulder.

"How about we get that food I told you about, and then I give the Professor a call," Hank said.

It was then Kurt realized the hand Hank had placed on his shoulder was trembling.


	6. Chapter 6

Hank could feel his fingers trembling as he frantically punched in the numbers for Charles's hotel suite. He'd managed to keep calm fairly well while Kurt was in the room, but as soon as he'd closed the door on the kitchen, he'd started running.

He'd recognized Raven's handwriting almost immediately on that small note and, once he'd seen the resemblance between mother and son, he couldn't unsee it. As he'd tried to heat something up for the too-thin teen he'd looked for more details, more habits that linked him to the woman he'd once cared for.

It hadn't taken him too long to develop his own theories about the father. Hank had wanted to hold off on those thoughts, especially when Azazel crossed his mind. Surely Raven'd had more sense than to take up with him?

Then Kurt walked past him, and he saw Kurt's tail brush the floor. After that, it had been something else he couldn't unsee, and he'd been forced to accept it. After so many years, something like this really shouldn't hurt. If anything, this should reinforce what he should have known all along, that he didn't really know Raven.

But instead his heart cracked as he looked at the young man, who seemed oddly shell-shocked as he stared around the kitchen. Kurt didn't tell Hank too much about why he was there, muttering vaguely about trouble at home, and a few scraps he'd been told when he was taken in. Hank wasn't sure if it was caused by a lack of trust on Kurt's part or fear.

There was more to support the latter theory than he would've preferred. Hank had smelt the sweat and dirt from several days on his skin and in his hair. Either the boy had a serious hygiene problem, or something was very wrong.

Given his previous experiences with the Institute, Hank again suspected it was the latter. That meant it was all the more important to get Charles on the line, to tell him to come home immediately because his nephew needed him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard a click.

"Jesus, do you know what time it is?"

Hank gritted his teeth. Of course he would get Alex. Charles always liked renting the penthouse suite in his favorite hotel, and Alex always insisted that he stay close by for security reasons once the X-men reformed.

At the time Hank thought he was being paranoid, but then Alex caught a Friends of Humanity hitman trying to force open the balcony doors. Hank hadn't expected, although he admired, the fact Alex hadn't dropped him off said balcony.

He'd broken a few bones, but at least he was still breathing when Alex turned him into the cops.

"Alex, I need to talk to Charles," Hank said.

"He's asleep, just like I wish I was," Alex grumbled, "You have the worst timing. Whatever this is can wait until tomorrow."

"No Alex, it can't," he said.

"Uh huh."

Hank clenched his spare hand into a fist. He could practically feel the blue hairs growing there. Hank disliked lying on principal, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to keep his temper for too much longer.

"We're having a serious biohazard situation in the labs," Hank said.

"I'll wake him up," Alex said.

There was a pounding of feet. Hank knew it wasn't fair to use their code phrase for an X-man situation over the phone lines but, again, he needed Alex to get Charles. Hank could apologize to him later if he felt like it.

Shuffling on the other line reached his ears. Hank swallowed, his throat suddenly going dry.

"Hank," Charles said.

He sounded worried. Hank figured he could clear that up just in time for him to get worried again.

"I lied about the biohazard situation," he said, "But we've got something just as pressing."

If it was Alex, he knew he could expect a snort. But instead Charles remained quiet, because he trusted Hank enough to know he wouldn't call about something trivial. As the silence stretched, Hank cleared his throat.

"We have a new student," he said, "Well, something like a new student. He's um, he's actually searching for a member of his family. One that's not here right now."

There was another heartbeat of silence.

"I think it would have been a better idea to speak to Alex about this matter first," Charles said, "Unless you're speaking to me on the possibility of getting advice. Although, he has been through this before unfortunately."

"No," said Hank, "It's..."

He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the urge to apologize to Charles, to beg the powers that be for forgiveness that he was going to break the news over the phone. However, this was the kind of news that would be unpardonable if he kept it to himself for a moment longer.

"I'm pretty certain he's your nephew," Hank said.

This time, the silence was longer, and much, much deeper.

"How do you know?"

Hank winced. His friend's voice sounded so emotionless, so distant, that he immediately felt guilty. Alex would have been better for this job, Alex who knew what it was to suddenly have to look after a family member.

But no. Hank hadn't been thinking. Now he had to be the one to tell him.

"His name is Kurt. He said he was here looking for his uncle," Hank said, "His mother had left a note with him claiming you were his uncle and he should go to you if he ever needed help."

"A...a note?" Charles asked.

The monotone was back, but there was a slight tremor in it now. Hank braced himself for what was going to happen next.

"From what I gathered afterwards, he was abandoned on a doorstep when he was a baby," Hank said.

Charles took a sharp breath. He couldn't blame him. Hank's own heart had nearly stopped when Kurt had told him that. It was so difficult imagining the firey, determined girl he'd known abandoning her son on a stranger's doorstep.

"But the note was left with him," Hank said, "He wasn't terribly talkative, but he came here because the address was printed there. He didn't even know this was a school for mutants."

"Is he...does he...?"

Hank bit down on his lip. It was easy to tell what Charles wanted to ask.

"He has dark blue skin and golden eyes," Hank said, "Charles...the more I look at him, the more obvious it becomes that she's his mother."

A few more seconds passed.

"I'll be there very soon," Charles said.

There was a click, and the line went dead.

* * *

Kurt finished the pizza Hank microwaved for him and looked around the kitchen. It was a fairly big affair, although he doubted it was enough for an entire school. Then again, what did he know about it? What did he know about anything really?

Hank had excused himself rather quickly after giving Kurt his food, and Kurt noticed one of his hands was still trembling. Kurt's hearing had always been pretty good, so he'd heard him running down the hall after he left.

He still wasn't sure why he was so panicked. He hadn't seemed hostile to him, but Kurt could tell he didn't want to talk. He'd been so friendly after Kurt arrived, but his parentage must have been quite a shock.

Kurt wondered, again, if this was a mistake. He'd come to his uncle because, as far as he knew, he had nowhere else to go. Staying in Germany wasn't really an option anymore, and there was no way he could resume the life he'd once had.

Amanda had also told him to do it. She'd been thinking more clearly than he had: even at the time he'd been able to recognize that. She'd had a plan, a direction, and Kurt had desperately wanted that. He hadn't even questioned going.

A strange, nauseous feeling began inside of him. He felt a little lost, and Kurt wondered if this was what it meant to be homesick. Over the past few days he'd wished again and again that he didn't have to go through with this, that it was all some sort of mistake that would go away in the morning.

However, now that he was inside, doing something as normal as eating dinner, he felt trapped. The kitchen shouldn't be so big: there should be a communal eating area. The walls shouldn't be so solid: he should be living in a trailer.

Kurt didn't begrudge his transient life: it was all he really knew. However, the idea that he was going to stay here, especially when he knew authorities were looking for him, had him feeling a slight amount of panic.

All of this coupled with the feeling in his stomach that, again, something was very wrong. This man he had run to, he wasn't family. Not really. While the Szardoses hadn't been his family either, they had always had his back.

Stefan had been his best friend, and that made him a kind of family. Margali's strength and command had always made Kurt feel safe when he was younger, safe and secure. Amanda had always made Kurt feel alive. That wasn't family, but it had been something.

Now Stefan was dead, Margali probably hated him, and he had no way to reach Amanda. The man who owned this school was a stranger, his only tie to him being a woman who had left Kurt when he was a baby.

And just how did things stand between his mother and his uncle? He kept thinking about how she hadn't left Kurt with her brother when she abandoned him. It was obvious she knew Margali, he saw that now, but why wasn't her brother a better choice?

Had something happened between the two of them? Hank hadn't thrown him out when he realized who he was, but there was so much to this story he didn't know. Then again, there was so much they didn't know about him, so much that he couldn't tell them.

The more he thought about it, the more sick he felt. Maybe it would be best not to think about any of this for a little bit. It wouldn't be the easiest thing, but he also knew he wasn't going to get anywhere by thinking in circles.

Sighing, he gathered up his dishes and went over to the sink. He placed them inside and went to turn on the faucet to wash them. His hand stopped just before he turned it on and, for a moment, he stared.

The taps looked normal when you looked at them form a distance but, up close, Kurt could tell there was something different about them. He paused for a second, and then touched the metal, frowning.

At home, he always had to maneuver to make sure he would be able to turn the taps. They had been made for people with five fingers, not three. It was always a little difficult to get a grip on them, but he'd managed to adjust.

These ones seemed more balanced, almost like anyone could turn them on no matter how many fingers they had. Kurt smiled softly to himself and began washing his dishes. He wasn't sure what type of man his uncle was, but he was starting to get the idea he was someone who was very smart and, to do something so small yet so important, very kind.

He closed his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, things wouldn't be so bad with his uncle.


	7. Chapter 7

Charles could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. Alex was in the front of the car, halfway through the largest coffee he could purchase at the Circle K. At least they'd been able to find somewhere that was open.

He sighed and looked out the window. Even at the speed they were going, it would be quite some time before they could make it to Westchester. With any luck, Hank would be able to find his nephew a room and let him get some sleep.

He knew he needed some sleep as well, but it was impossible to think of any getting rest at a time like this. Raven's son had just shown up at his house. Charles tried to picture what he looked like, what would give away his parentage to Hank, but quietly dismissed it. He'd know soon enough.

From the front seat he heard Alex take another gulp of coffee. Alex, like a good soldier, had been ready to go by the time Charles finished his phone call with Hank. He thought they were going back to Westchester to deal with an X-man situation.

No. This was more complicated, but at the time Charles hadn't had the words to explain. So they'd finished packing up, Alex bought coffee, and then he began breaking the speed limit at every turn.

The silence in the car felt oppressive. Charles's mind went back to the last time he'd seen Raven. It had been years ago, but if her son was old enough to make his way to the Institute, he would have existed then.

He'd often thought, thinking back on that day, that Raven hadn't seemed angry at him. She'd just been determined, doing what she thought was right. Perhaps she had decided Charles had held her back, or, as Erik told him, he hadn't held onto her tightly enough.

But, in his heart of hearts, he'd always believed she knew she could come to him if she needed anything. Granted, if she'd shown up at Westchester with a baby he would have been shocked, but he wouldn't have been angry. If she'd left him on the doorstep, he would've taken him in.

With someone to be responsible for, he wouldn't have slipped into the drunken depression that had marked too much of his life. He could have given her child everything he deserved and more, just for the chance to be called "uncle," for the chance to have a family.

And, as his heart yearned and ached to meet his nephew, he still felt a flicker of fear inside him. He knew nothing about Kurt, nothing about what his life had been like up to that point. Did Kurt even want to stay, or was this just a stop-off point?

If he did want to stay, what exactly could Charles do for him? He'd mentored countless students, that much was true. However, it wasn't the same as being an uncle. It wasn't the same as being family.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

"Got something ya want ta say?"

He looked up. Alex was looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"Eyes on the road," Charles said mildly.

Alex let out a harsh breath, and Charles knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Whatever," he said, "Just figured you should get it off your chest if we're going to be dealing with some more bigots soon."

Charles leaned back further and folded his hands in his lap. Perhaps it would be best to leave the explanations to Hank.

"Or you could tell me what's really going on."

He felt himself slump slightly.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"I may not be a genius like you and Hank, but I figured if something really bad had happened, you'dve told me by now," Alex said, his fingers drumming on the outside of the steering wheel, "That and I listened to the radio at the Circle K. If something big had happened, it would've shown up there."

Charles smiled faintly. Alex, unlike him and Hank, never failed to notice the obvious. He was always looking at the trees for the forest. While it meant he missed some things, it also meant people had a bad habit of underestimating him. Most of the time, they didn't realize what had happened until it was too late.

"So, what's going on?" asked Alex.

He hesitated, but there wasn't any point in keeping this from him. Soon, everyone would know.

"My nephew just showed up at the Institute," he said.

Charles felt the car jerk slightly to the left, but there was no further reaction from Alex. It appeared he was thinking.

"And no," Charles said tiredly, "I have no other siblings."

"I know you don't," Alex said.

Alex turned the car onto another road before sighing.

"Not saying he shouldn't be there or anything, but why is he there?" asked Alex.

It was a fair question.

"Apparently Raven left my address with him in case he was ever in trouble," he said.

"What do you mean left it with him?" asked Alex, "She's not...oh."

He could almost hear Alex wince when he realized the answer to his question. Charles watched as Alex drank more coffee, no doubt to soothe his nerves.

"So...what now?" Alex asked.

"I'm not sure," Charles confessed.

"Hm," Alex said.

He set the cup of coffee back down.

"You know," he said, "when I took Scott in, I hadn't actually had a real conversation with my parents in three years."

"I know," Charles said softly.

Alex's estrangement with his parents was a story he'd kept close to his chest for a long time. He'd only revealed scraps before Vietnam and, afterwards, he'd left out several of the more prominent details. There were some things that were just too painful.

But he'd always kept up a brisk correspondence with his younger brother, even while he was overseas. Once, when they hadn't had any fuel on an extended mission in the mountains, Alex had been forced to burn the letters he'd kept from Scott to stay alive. Apparently they'd made a very good start to a fire, which had kept him and his patrol warm for the entire night.

"I still can't believe they listed me as his official guardian in case they died," Alex said, "It's like they didn't trust me enough to talk to me, but they trusted me enough to take care of Scott."

Charles didn't say anything. He knew there was years of resentment bubbling under the surface, years Alex was struggling to let go of. Alex was more expressive in some ways than Hank, but all three of them had some things they wanted to refrain from speaking of, had decided to deal with themselves.

Sometimes, when he couldn't sleep, Charles wondered if he'd accidently taught them that.

"But, it's difficult," Alex said, "I mean, I loved Scott. Still do. I just...the reason he was with me felt really weird, you know?"

"I remember you telling me," said Charles.

"And then, there was the way he looked at me," said Alex, "I mean, the kid was ten when I got him. He wasn't just looking for an older brother: he was looking for a father, and I didn't think I could give that to him."

He turned his eyes away from the road and looked at Charles.

"But you told me I could," he said, "You told me I had what it took."

"I still believe you do," Charles said, "But...Kurt is different."

"His name is Kurt?" asked Alex, "Sounds German."

"I honestly have no idea," Charles said.

Alex gave a half-hearted shrug and looked back at the road. With his spare hand he picked up the coffee cup again. When he brought it to his lips he grimaced. Perhaps it had gone cold.

"It's not that different though," he said, setting the cup back, "I mean...Charles, I'm still not sure that I was the best choice to raise Scott. I'm just not."

"You don't give yourself enough credit," Charles said.

"Hey, I'm not finished yet," Alex said.

Charles inclined his head, even though he knew Alex couldn't see it.

"As I was saying," Alex said, "I still get nervous when I think about how damn much that kid depends on me. And it horrified me when they read out that will. I'd done a good job at being an older brother who lives in another state. How was I going to be as an older brother who lived with his brother? As a kind of father?"

He sighed.

"I wasn't even sure I wanted to take on that role," said Alex, "My life had been fine before I took Scott in, and I was afraid of changing that."

Alex turned another corner.

"But when they pushed those forms in front of me, I damn well signed them," Alex said, "Do you know why?"

Charles could venture a guess, but Alex didn't give him time to respond.

"Because I had to," he said, "Scott was my flesh and blood, and if I rejected him, he wouldn't have anyone else. And as for whether or not I'm what he needs, or if I'm good enough, it doesn't really matter."

Alex's voice became a little softer.

"I'll just do my damndest to make sure he has a good life, that he understands I love him," he said, "And we can figure out the rest as we go."

"And if it's not enough?" asked Charles.

Alex laughed, and the sound made Charles's heart plummet straight to his stomach. No, he didn't understand.

"It's going to be enough," he said confidently, "I mean, that's what every family goes through, isn't it? Trying to do the right thing for each other? And that's all we can do, try, and pray it works out."

His laughter subsided.

"But, in the end, the thing we have to understand is that they...they need us," Alex said, "And as long as we keep that in mind, I don't really think we can fail. I think I just come up to par when it comes to the whole mentor thing. But you...shit Charles, if you can't help someone through whatever they're going through, then I don't think anyone is qualified to."

Charles closed his eyes.

"Thank you," he said, although they weren't the words in his head.

"Any time."

Without opening his eyes, Charles rested his head on his chin. Alex meant well, he really did. And, in some ways, he was right. However, Alex had an uncanny ability to look away from the past and set his eyes on the future.

Charles had never been blessed with such a gift. Because, unlike Alex, this wasn't his first time taking in someone, trying to help them as they grew older, and hoping that he got it right. He'd taken in many students over the years, but there was only ever one person he'd made part of his family

And he'd failed her. He'd failed her even though he'd believed he'd done a good job up until Cuba. Maybe he hadn't known as much about her as he'd thought. It seemed to be the only real explanation for the events that had followed.

No matter which way he looked at it, no matter who was right in the end, his failure was the only common denominator. If Alex knew his thoughts he'd argue that it wasn't the same thing, but it really, really was.

He might have only been a child when he took her in, but the facts were plain as day. He'd taken Raven in as part of his family, failed her, lost her, and now, years later, her son had come to his doorstep looking for help.

Charles could only pray he wouldn't fail Kurt too.


	8. Chapter 8

When Kurt woke up the next morning, he didn't know where he was for a moment. The last few days had been spent sleeping outdoors, so sleeping on a soft surface had come as a shock to his system.

It had been a pleasant one though. For the first night in a long time, he hadn't had any nightmares. Kurt figured a large part of it was the pure exhaustion and stress. When he looked at the clock next to his bed, he realized he'd slept for ten hours.

Pushing himself up, Kurt looked around the room. Clean clothes had been laid on his dresser, just about the right size. Kurt felt a little guilty about taking them, but he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do with them.

Besides, his clothes were filthy. There was a mirror in the room, and Kurt realized he looked like a wreck. He winced and headed to the small bathroom in the adjoining room. He was trying to make a good impression after all.

After scrubbing off the dirt and dried sweat of his trip he felt a little better, but not by a whole lot. It was almost the afternoon, but he didn't feel hungry, so whatever he'd eaten the night before must have worked.

At the same time, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to remain in his room or not. If they'd wanted him to, surely they would have left instructions. Then again, if he stayed in his room, they might think he was still sleeping.

Kurt gulped and looked at the door. Steeling himself, he opened it and peered out into the hall. It was fairly quiet, and Kurt wondered if classes had started. What did they teach in mutant school? It certainly wouldn't have the same curriculum as everywhere else.

 _Down here._

He looked around, wondering who had said that. Kurt didn't see anyone, and he wondered if he'd imagined it. It certainly had sounded soft enough for it to have been his overactive imagination.

 _Go down the stairs._

He definitely hadn't imagined that. Feeling slightly unnerved, he walked down the hall and down the staircase.

 _Turn left._

Now incredibly nervous, Kurt did so. There was an office there, the door cracked slightly open. Kurt hesitated outside of it, wondering what he was supposed to do.

"You can come in."

Kurt almost jumped, but at least the voice had lost its whispering quality. He inched open the door and saw a man sitting behind a desk. He looked fairly young, although all of his hair was gone. He smiled when he saw Kurt.

"You can close the door if you wish," he said.

He did so, feeling slightly odd.

"I thought it was best to let you sleep for a while this morning," he said, "I can't imagine that you had an easy night last night."

Kurt nodded his head, words failing him.

"Have a seat," the man said.

He didn't move, just stared at him. The smile on the man's face faltered slightly.

"Can ve...maybe just..." Kurt stammered.

"Yes?" the man asked.

"Who are you?" Kurt asked.

The man's smile faltered a little again, and Kurt realized he was nervous.

"I...I'm your uncle," he said.

The silence that followed enveloped him like a cloak. So this was him. This was Charles Xavier, his mother's brother. Was he her older brother, or her younger? Kurt realized she'd never said. Then again, it wasn't like the note had been particularly descriptive.

Kurt sat down then, his hands in his lap. He had a feeling he'd need to sit for whatever came next.

"Zis...ist not how I zought you vould look," he said, not sure what else to say.

The words surprised even him.

"How did you think I would look?" his uncle asked.

Kurt bit his lip. Honestly, he hadn't thought about it much. However, if he really had to think about it, he realized had been hoping for something different.

"Like me," he said simply.

His uncle sighed and put his hands on the table.

 _I may not look like you, but we have more in common than you think._

Kurt blinked and looked up. His uncle gave him a small smile.

"While my mutation is of a less physical nature, it does exist," he said.

"Oh," Kurt said.

"To be honest, you actually look quite a bit like your mother," his uncle said.

"Really?" asked Kurt, "Vas she a mutant too? I alvays vondered."

A full smile returned to Charles's face. No doubt he was remembering something good.

"Yes," Charles said, "She was. You have her skin and eyes."

Kurt digested that information for a moment. So his mother had been blue, like him.

"But not her hair," his uncle said, "She had red hair."

Inside his head, Kurt tried, and failed, to visualize a woman fitting that description.

"Oh," he said, nodding as though he understood.

There was another pause. There were so many in his life nowadays.

"Kurt, I know that this is awkward for you," his uncle said, "And, when Hank first gave me the call last night, I must say that I was more than a little surprised. However...I cannot help but feel..."

His uncle swallowed.

"I haven't seen your mother in many years," he said, "I haven't had a real conversation with her in even longer. And to know that she had a son..."

"She never told you?" Kurt asked.

His uncle shook his head. So many of his misgivings came flooding back. His uncle hadn't even known he existed? Of course he'd realized that she hadn't given him Kurt to take care of, but to not even tell him?

Worry began to gnaw his gut.

"It's not something that I'm proud of, but I don't even know who your father is," Charles said, "Raven was rather...we never really spoke after...we fell out when we were younger."

So many of the words reaching Kurt's ears seemed terribly important, but one stuck out above the rest. Raven. His mother's name was Raven. He furrowed his brow. It didn't coincide with the single letter on the note, that dominant "M."

"Ze note said it vas from 'M,'" Kurt said.

The corners of Charles's mouth began to turn down.

"She...took to calling herself something a little different when she got older," Charles said.

He looked down.

"If you're trying to find her, then I'm afraid I can't be much help," he said, "As I said, I haven't seen her in a long time."

"Zat vould be gut, but it vas not vhy I came," said Kurt.

Charles nodded and looked up again.

"It means a great deal to me to know she told you to come here if you were in trouble," his uncle said, "And, while I know this might not be the easiest question for you to answer, are you in trouble?"

Kurt chewed his tongue.

"I can't go home," he said.

His uncle waited, perhaps hoping for a more detailed explanation. Kurt couldn't give him what he wanted though. While he'd been very courteous, Kurt couldn't bring himself to tell a man who was little more than a stranger what happened.

"I see," his uncle said.

His uncle sighed.

"You are welcome to stay here for as long as you need to Kurt," he said, "I have tried to let your mother know she can come back at any time, that this is her home. That applies to any of her offspring as well."

Kurt managed a smile.

"And, well, I must say that I have managed to build a good school here," he said, "You don't have to worry about getting behind in your work or anything like that."

He winced.

"I um, I haf not been to school for ze past two years," said Kurt.

"I see," Charles said, "Was that by choice? I'm not judging you if it was-"

"Vell, ja und nein," said Kurt, feeling like he was babbling, "Margali, zat ist voman who took me in, she said zat I vas needed for ze act full time."

"The act?" asked his uncle.

"Ja," Kurt said, "None of us really vent to school past fifteen. It vas a travelling circus, so zere vas school tent, but zere was limited room und all. Ze teachers vere not bad, but it vas mostly for ze younger vones."

Charles blinked at him.

"You were in the circus?" he asked.

"As an acrobat," Kurt said quickly.

He didn't want his uncle to think he'd been part of the freak show. Far too many new members of the circus had asked if that was what he was a part of.

"It sounds like an interesting life," Charles said.

"It is," said Kurt, "Or...vas."

His voice dwindled down. Had he really just said that? He felt a little ashamed. Here was Charles, offering him sanctuary, and the first thing he did was say that he wished he could go back to his old life.

After a moment, he hazarded a glance up. Charles looked slightly uncertain, and then he reached down. At first Kurt thought he was trying to show him something, and then he saw him wheel out from behind the desk.

It was only then that Kurt realized his uncle was in a wheelchair.

"I don't know why you can't return home," said Charles, "And I hope that you'll let me in enough one day enough to know why that is. But as long as you stay under this roof, you, like all of the other mutants here, will be under my protection."

Kurt nodded, feeling awkward.

"I know that this situation is, awkward for both of us," Charles said.

He really could read minds.

"But, I would like to get to know you," his uncle said, "What happened between your mother and I...it's very complicated, but it didn't make me care about her any less, and it certainly doesn't make me care about you any less."

Kurt desperately wanted to ask what it was that had happened, why she had left, why they hadn't spoken it almost two decades. But he didn't, because he knew he didn't have any right to ask.

Not when he was keeping his own secrets.

"I don't know how long you want to stay or what you want to do, but..." Charles said.

His uncle swallowed and stopped about a foot away from him.

"As I said, I would like to get to know you," he said, "I've missed so much for so long."

Kurt hazarded a smile.

"I've nefer had family before," he said.

"What about the people that took you in?" asked Charles.

"Not ze same zing," he said, "Not vhen Margali...she vas gut voman, alvays fery kind to me, but she made it clear I vas not her son."

Charles looked at him for a moment longer, almost as though there was something he wanted to say. The door slammed open and Hank came in, looking flustered. Kurt could see the sweat gathering on his brow.

"Charles, I'm really sorry," Hank said, looking at Kurt, "But we have a situation downstairs and I could really use you right now."

His uncle sighed, looking frustrated.

"It can wait," he said.

"It's in the biohazard lab."

His uncle closed his eyes for a moment.

"Excuse me for a moment Kurt," he said.

Kurt nodded, feeling disappointed. He'd been sure Charles had wanted to tell him something, and given their current situation and topic, it could've been about his mother. However, he knew that his uncle also had a school to run.

He supposed it would have to wait.


	9. Chapter 9

Charles got into the elevator with Hank, trying to control the frustration which was rapidly bubbling inside of him. He'd only had a few short minutes with his nephew, and then his life had intruded.

It had taken every scrap of his self-control not to yell at Hank for interrupting them. He'd been sure Kurt was on the verge of trusting him, if not with what had led him there, but at least with some more information about himself. Charles had managed to learn so little about him.

The resemblance to Raven had been shockingly clear, although Charles knew he might've written it off if not for the note. Kurt seemed to know absolutely nothing about his mother, to be drinking in every single scrap of information he was given.

He'd been so eager to learn more that it made Charles's heart ache. While he didn't think Kurt had had an abusive home life with the woman who took him in, he hadn't had a family either. Charles knew all too well that there was a marked difference between having a house and a home.

Perhaps he could be that family for him. Perhaps Westchester could be his home. Charles knew all of that depended on whether or not Kurt wanted Westchester to be home from now on. If he did, Charles would try to steer him towards taking some classes, although he knew it was too early to be thinking about things like that.

He pondered if he'd be able to take the next few days off, leave Hank running the day-to-day operations at the school. It seemed so obvious to him now that he should have taken care of that before Kurt had woken up. He'd certainly had enough time.

The doors to the elevator closed and Charles looked at Hank.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Hank shifted uncomfortably.

"You know how things are between Warren and Scott, right?" he asked.

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. He usually kept close tabs on all of his students, but students who were also X-men warranted a slightly closer watch than others. He'd always been worried something would happen that would disturb the fragile balance between their dual roles as students and fighters, but for the first year or so he'd seen no such signs.

Then Warren had asked Jean out and all hell had broken loose. It appeared that Jean had feelings for Scott, feelings which were reciprocated. However, Scott hadn't wanted to speak to Jean at first because of Warren's feelings. He'd gotten over it, shortly before Warren made his move.

When Jean turned Warren down, she'd confessed it was because she was with Scott. It hadn't been common knowledge at the time. Charles had just heard of it from Alex who, while he didn't like betraying his brother's confidence, knew that he had to help Charles keep track of the team's shifting dynamic. Anything that could create a potential conflict, or render a poor decision later, would have to be told to him.

Charles had known for some time that a conflict was brewing between Warren and Scott, and had gently tried to steer them away from it. There wasn't much else he could do if they wouldn't admit there was a problem.

But it was plain to see the two were going down different paths. Scott had always wanted extra training, wanting to be a better X-man, a better fighter. If Charles was honest, he knew Scott was trying to imitate his brother. It was one of the reasons he knew Alex was a little scared of the power he had in Scott's life.

Having the world prefer Scott at every turn had always grated on Warren's nerves. They had entered the Institute at the same age, been roommates together. Scott was more popular than Warren, even if he had a chronic case of nerves when it came to social situations. But Scott continued to swallow his fears and push forward, running for positions in student government, getting better grades.

These things seemed so important to the teenagers, although the first wave of X-men had never seemed to be affected by them. Sean had been head-over-heels for a girl in New Salem, Alex had casually dated and Hank had all but closed the door on that aspect of his life. The three of them seemed to understand that they were all different, contributed different things. He'd hoped the new team could understand that too.

But they hadn't. Scott had been trying to hard to be better that he'd never noticed Warren's own struggles. Warren had decided to keep his cards close to his chest. Charles figured that Warren had always thought that, even if Scott was better than him, he was at least his friend, and he at least trusted him. Keeping his relationship with Jean a secret must have snapped something inside him.

The result had been less than desired. Charles was sure that, somewhere along the line, things could've been handled better. Perhaps Warren couldn't take it so personally. Perhaps Scott could've explained what was happening between him and the red-headed telepath sooner.

In the end, it hadn't mattered. The event had apparently triggered a lot of resentment that had been building inside of Warren for quite some time. It resulted in skipped practices, rudeness, and a few minor incidents.

Warren's polarizing behavior had created a rift between them, and it was starting to show. Ororo had sided with Warren, which meant she'd given Jean and Scott the cold shoulder. Jean and Scott were, of course, united.

It had left poor Jubilee in a terrible state. Both parties were her friends, and she had tried to desperately to keep neutral in the entire conflict. However, they'd thought things had been winding down lately.

Apparently not. He couldn't believe he'd been called out of a conversation with his long-lost nephew for this.

"What happened?" he asked, removing his hand from his face.

The doors to the elevator opened, and Charles heard Alex screaming at someone. He gave a questioning look at Hank, who winced.

"Let's just say certain feelings might've carried over to practice," he said, "And if you don't step in soon, I think Alex is going to lose it."

Charles fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose again. He tilted his head back and rolled into the main practice area. Jubilee was standing off to the side, looking tearful. Her eyes met his and he saw her look away.

A pang of guilt entered him. He'd never felt good about allowing teens to take to the field, but it was times like this that he was reminded just how young they were. In many ways, Jubilee was the perfect example. She was so dependable in a fight, but when it came to situations like this, not as much.

Jean was looking a little shell-shocked from where she was, and Ororo just seemed angry. He could just make out the forms of Warren and Scott sitting on a bench towards the back of the room, Alex in front of them.

"Do you have any idea what you could've done?" he screamed, "Any idea at all?"

As Charles approached, he could see the two boys clearly. Warren was glaring sulkily at the floor, his face sweaty and his hair ruffled. Scott was sitting right next to him, holding his nose in a wad of tissue, staring at some point far beyond his brother.

"Look at me, both of you!" Alex snarled.

They both looked up, Warren still defiant, Scott's face blank.

"You have no idea how much trouble you're in," he said, "None whatsoever."

Scott's eyes flickered at Charles, and Charles thought he saw him go a shade paler. Alex must have noticed the new direction his gaze was taking, because he turned around suddenly and saw Charles there, along with Hank.

"Welcome to the party," he said dryly.

"What happened?" asked Charles.

Scott quickly looked away and Warren's jaw clenched.

"What happened is a training session got out of hand," Alex said tightly, "Or should I say a goddamn sparring match turned into something from a war movie."

Charles looked at Scott's bloodied nose and saw other cuts and scrapes on his face. Warren's hands seemed scraped up, and he had a black eye. There were other scrapes around his lips, and as Charles watched Warren cracked his neck and winced.

Even from a distance, it looked like Warren had gotten the worst of the fight.

"With permission," Alex said, "I would like to cancel all further practice sessions without an adult present."

A few feet shuffled across the room. The unsupervised practice sessions had been a mark of trust, a symbol of Alex's belief they could learn things without him babysitting them. It also took some of the pressure off Alex and Hank's schedules.

Changing them would mean practicing at all hours of the night, being constantly watched. Charles knew things must have gotten bad for Alex to even request it.

"Tell me what happened first," he said.

Alex let out a harsh breath.

"From what the security footage shows," he said, "We had a sparring match that ended with Warren using techniques I taught to disable people. Techniques which were only meant to be used on dummies because they're damaging."

Charles suddenly realized the true reason Scott had a bloody nose.

"If Warren had used one technique at the right angle, he might've given Scott a concussion, or brain damage," he said.

"And you know he didn't use the wrong angle on purpose because?" asked Charles.

Alex stared back at Charles, his eyes livid.

"Because he started out at the right angle, and Scott's battered his hand out of the way," he said.

Charles felt himself slump in his chair.

"And why is Scott in trouble?" he asked.

"Because it only took three minutes of it for him to start doing it back," Alex snapped, "He didn't call us, didn't persist in using takedown techniques we taught him for this purpose. Just fought fire with fire."

Alex looked over his shoulder and glared at his brother.

"And he knows better goddamnit," he said.

Charles gave a shuddering breath and looked at the two boys.

"Is there anything Alex said that isn't correct?" he asked, "Anything that you want to add or say for yourself?"

Both boys remained silent. Charles looked at Alex.

 _I was talking to Kurt when Hank got me_ , he thought.

 _I know_ , Alex thought back, _And I'm sorry I couldn't handle this on my own._

Charles rubbed his forehead. He just wanted to get back upstairs, to pretend like his team was functioning like it was supposed to. He just wanted to deal with his nephew, not something that seemed as insane as this.

"Alex's request pertaining to private practice sessions is granted," Charles said.

He heard a soft sigh behind him. Jubilee or Jean? He couldn't tell.

"Warren, Scott, see Hank," Charles said, "He'll have to patch you up, and he'll help you come up with a good story as to why you look like you've gotten in the fight."

He let out a harsh breath.

"At five tonight you two will come to my office for a long conversation later," he said, "And that conversation will determine what your punishment will be for this. At the moment, you'd be lucky to get off with a suspension from the team. Please think long and hard before you answer."

Without another word he turned around and wheeled out of the room. He'd had quite enough of this for one day.


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt was still waiting in the office when Charles returned. He'd pulled a book off one of the shelves, and Charles was interested to see that it was _Jane Eyre_. He was a little less happy to see the look of complete and utter confusion on Kurt's face as he flipped from one page to another.

But he quickly put it back on the shelf and turned to Charles when he came in. Charles gave Kurt the best smile he could muster under the circumstances, and then rolled up next to him, trying to pretend that nothing was amiss.

"Vas eferyzing alright?" Kurt asked.

"Yes," Charles said, "A minor spill. Several students were startled. It was nothing major."

If only that were true.

"I was wondering if you would like a tour of the facility," Charles said, "I'm not sure whether or not you want to start taking classes here, but I don't like the idea of you getting lost during your stay."

Kurt smiled back at him, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"I am...not sure zat I vill be here long enough for classes," he said.

Charles nodded, ignoring the pang that statement caused. Kurt wasn't trying to hurt him, only trying to be honest, but still.

"Let's start with the ground floor," he said, "I'm afraid the upper levels have classes in them at the moment. Lunch ended about half an hour before you came down, and I know several classes have tests going on."

"Ja, sounds gut," said Kurt.

Charles gestured to the door and they walked out. Kurt's eyes roved around the halls, no doubt taking in the high ceilings and the beautifully carved wood paneling. Charles's ancestors had been major show-offs. He still had most of the antiques the estate possessed in a warehouse further on the grounds.

He was considering selling most of them soon. Running a school like this wasn't cheap, and he hated having them clutter up the storage.

"Did you build zis as a school or buy it?" Kurt asked.

"It was originally intended to be my family home, believe it or not," said Charles, "I was never particularly fond of the style, not even as a child, but all those extra rooms came in handy for something."

"You grew up here?" Kurt asked.

"Yes," Charles said, "I inherited it when I was around twenty-three and my mother died. I wasn't sure whether or not I should go back, but when I had the idea to start a school five years later, it was the best facility I could find in a pinch. It helped that I already owned it."

Kurt grinned, and then bit his lip.

"Is something bothering you?" asked Charles.

His nephew hesitated for a moment more.

"Did mein...did mein mutter grow up here?" he asked.

Charles looked at him. His nephew was nervous, and he realized Kurt wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask about his mother. Given what Charles had told him already, he probably knew he was prodding at an open wound. Perhaps he thought it would hurt too much, or he thought Charles wouldn't want to talk about Raven.

The honest truth was that, yes, it did hurt to talk about Raven. For many years he hadn't wanted to talk about her, hadn't wanted to even think about her, and when he let all of those emotions drown him, he'd been lost for years.

He'd tried to be more open after that, knowing that the school, mutantkind, perhaps the world, could ill-afford for him to waver and lose his way a second time. And Kurt had a right to know. Raven might be Charles's sister, but Kurt was her son.

So he gave him another gentle smile, despite the pain sparking inside of him.

"Yes, she did," Charles said, "She was always fond of the outdoors, and she loved the grounds here. But she never liked it when it rained. I did. She would come up with such games to keep me indoors with her."

He opened the door to the library and wheeled inside. Kurt followed him closely, his eyes taking in the sea of volumes.

"But she always hated the wallpaper here, which I quite loved," he said, "I thought it looked like moss on a tree. When she was seven she told me it looked like snot."

Kurt chuckled, and Charles felt heartened.

"She was often saying things like that," he said, "She also liked sliding on the bannisters more than was good for her. I was worried she was going to get hurt, but she didn't listen to me. Instead, she whooped all the way down. Our stepfather hated that."

"Stepfather?" Kurt asked.

Charles resisted the urge to wince. His stepfather, Marko, was not the type of man he wanted to remember.

"A very peculiar man," he said, repeating the description he'd once given Alex, "Not someone I particularly liked, but he, my mother and my stepbrother were often out of the house. For months and months at a time. It meant it was just me and Raven."

He sighed wistfully, and spoke the next words without a hint of vanity or pride.

"I think she preferred it that way to be honest," he said, "I know I did."

Kurt shifted his hands in his pocket.

"You vere fery close?" he asked.

"Yes," Charles said, "She was...is, my best and oldest friend. For a long time she was my only friend, and I felt she was the only one who truly understood me."

He tapped the side of his head.

"I don't have to tell you that it's difficult to grow up different," he said, "It was never so difficult for me, because most people won't know I'm a mutant unless I tell them. But, Raven..."

He tapped the sides of his wheelchair.

"Your mother looked very much like you, as I've said before," he said, "But her mutation was that she could change her appearance."

"Oh," Kurt said.

His tail swished behind him.

"Vhy did she not just keep hidden zen?" he asked.

Charles felt a little like crying. He could see a kind of desire in Kurt's eyes, as though he would prefer that to be his mutation. Even in a climate that was rapidly understanding mutations, Raven would still draw stares in any populated place.

Kurt, however, had a very particular problem. Raven's appearance was unusual, but Kurt looked like something very specific that people feared.

"She tried," said Charles, "But she was the kind of person who burns so brightly that, if you put a lampshade over them, it stifles them."

He closed his eyes.

"It might even put out the light all together," he said.

Kurt didn't respond. Charles didn't expect him to: there were few things you could say when someone told you something like that. Perhaps he'd been a bit premature in confessing that about Raven. The words had just come out.

"Vell, zat vas nefer an option I had," Kurt said.

His nephew's words were light, but there was an undercurrent of something else.

"Kurt, the family who took you in," Charles said, "I don't mean to pry more than you want, but...you said they were kind..."

Kurt nodded quickly.

"Ja," he said, "Zey um, zey did not say anyzing mean to me because of how I looked, and zey did not say anyzing later vhen I began teleporting."

"Teleporting?" Charles repeated.

Hank had confessed his thoughts about Kurt's father when Charles had arrived, but Charles had decided to put such thoughts on hold until later. They were coming back full force now.

"Ja," Kurt said.

There was a flash of smoke, the smell of sulphur, and Kurt was standing on the other side of the room. No, there was no denying this.

"Margali said it vould be good for ze act," he said, "Und zere vas zis vone time, vhen ze support gave out, und I vas able to grab Amanda before anyzing happened. Ze audience zought it vas part of ze act. It alvays did vorry me zat Margali did not like safety nets."

So many thoughts rattled in his head, but Charles decided to keep things simple.

"Amanda?" he asked.

"Ja," Kurt said, "She ist Margali's daughter. I grew up vith her und her older brother, Stefan."

A slight hitch appeared in Kurt's voice when he mentioned Stefan, and Charles filed it away for later.

"So, your foster sister," Charles said.

Kurt looked a little uncomfortable.

"I vish you vould not put it zat vay," he said, "Margali let me know zey vere not mien siblings."

Inwardly, Charles felt his frown deepen. Despite reassurances from Kurt about Margali's kindness, he was starting to get the feeling that it wasn't kindness Margali had shown Kurt. She'd shown him a lack of cruelty, and that wasn't the same thing.

He'd have to wait for more information to confirm that though. The last thing he needed to do was jump to conclusions.

"How did you see it?" Charles asked carefully.

His nephew thought for a moment.

"I...I realized fery young zat lofe did not haf to haf ein name vith it," he said, "Zese titles ve give people, brozzer, sister, mutter, zey are all good titles, but zey are not necessary. All I knew vas I lofed Amanda und Stefan fery much."

He shifted a little.

"But I lofed Amanda in ein different vay. Zat much I knew," he said, his eyes all but glowing, "Und...ve are togezzer now."

Charles smiled, feeling pleased for him, but also a bit cautious. Kurt had said he couldn't go home. Did that mean he couldn't go back to her?

"She ist coming to ze states soon," Kurt said, "Und, I'm not sure if you vill be able to meet her, or want to, but, vell-"

"I would be delighted to meet anyone you cared about," said Charles.

Kurt gave him a shy smile.

"She ist fery beautiful," he said, "Und fery smart. She ist ze vone who vould lofe to live at a school. She vas looking into ze possibility of going into college in a few years."

"I thought you said you all dropped out around fifteen?" asked Charles

"She still vanted to go to college," Kurt said, "She took courses zat you can send away for, had it follow us around vehn ve moved, city to city."

"She sounds like an amazing young woman," Charles said.

"She is," Kurt said.

His voice was wistful, and Charles understood it. Now that he was safe, his nephew was becoming homesick.

"If you feel the need to call, or anything of the sort, then please feel free to use the telephone," he offered.

Kurt shook his head.

"Ve don't haf vone vhere ve live," he said, "Zey vere talking about getting some of zhoze fancy portable vones, but I do not know ze number."

"Oh," Charles said.

"She had plans to visit America soon, und ve vere going to meet zen," Kurt said, "It has only been a few days und I miss her already."

"I understand," Charles said.

He looked around the room and cleared his throat.

"Would you like to see the rest of the Institute?" he asked.

"Ja," Kurt said.

His eyes gave the room a quick once-over.

"For vhat it ist vorth," he said, "I zink zat ze vallpaper looks like lichen. It ist too dark for snot."

Charles couldn't help it: he laughed. Next to him Kurt grinned, and it made hope spark in his heart. Maybe, despite everything that had happened, everything that would probably happen in the future, they were off to a good start.


	11. Chapter 11

Scott stormed into his room, but refrained from slamming the door behind him. His nose and head were throbbing, and it seemed like any loud noises would just make it worse.

Besides, he was supposed to be recovering from an explosion in one of the chemistry labs. He rolled his eyes. That was the best excuse Hank was able to come up with, and Scott had been forced to sit next to Warren until the two of them got their story straight.

He flopped down onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. The Professor's words were rattling around in his head, but when he closed his eyes, it was his brother's expression he saw. Alex had been furious as he yanked the two of them away from each other.

What was infinitely worse was that his brother seemed to think it was his fault. He hadn't been the one to get punched first, hadn't been the one to start the fight. When everything had first gone down, Alex had been the one to tell him it wasn't his fault that he'd asked Jean out first. That was just how it went sometimes.

So why on earth did he think it was his fault now? Scott hated the explanation he'd given the Professor. He should've known better? Why did he have to be the one to be the adult all the time?

In his mind, Warren was still the one who started it. Scott had recognized that he was using frightening techniques, was taking the fight far too seriously, and Scott had responded in kind. Yes, that was probably childish, but the whole situation was childish.

Things had just slid downhill so quickly. One day he and Warren were friends, roommates, and then the next day they were barely speaking to each other and Warren had moved his things out of the room.

And now it looked like they were going to be suspended from the team. Again, things had escalated quickly. Scott had expected that they would be able to separate their social lives and the X-men, that Warren wouldn't bring things onto the sparring pad. He'd been wrong.

Would the Professor remove them altogether? Scott felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. No, he wouldn't do that. There were only seven of them who went out into the field, eight in a pinch. The team couldn't afford to lose two members and then waste time training more.

He rolled on his side, careful not to aggravate his nose. No, that didn't make sense. It was almost winter, and the Friends of Humanity liked to do their ops in winter. Scott wasn't sure why that was, other than they didn't like the heat, but they were only months away from what was traditionally an active season.

So no, it wouldn't make sense for the Professor to bench two of his top operatives. It wasn't pride speaking: it was a fact. Scott and Warren had the best times, the best control of their powers. Warren as the team's chief aerial support, since Ororo couldn't fly without kicking up a wind. Scott was their chief long-range operative, again because Jubilee's powers could be sporadic.

Then again, if they were acting like this, then Scott wasn't sure they were the top operatives anymore. IF they couldn't even go through a practice session acting like members of the team, then what chance did they have of acting like members on the field?

He got up and rubbed his temples. Scott felt the need to talk to someone, to prepare for what was going to happen that afternoon with the Professor, but who could he talk to? Alex was still pissed at him, he barely talked to Ororo anymore, and Jubilee wanted nothing to do with it.

Part of him said he should go and talk to Jean, but he wanted to keep her out of this as much as possible. She still felt responsible for the falling out between the two friends and, no matter how many times Scott tried to reassure her she wasn't, she wouldn't listen.

Restlessly, he got up and walked out of his room. He needed some air, or at least needed to be somewhere that his feet could do something other than pace. His room just wasn't big enough for that.

He took a quick detour outside, and just started walking in a straight line. There were still a few hours until it got dark, and it would be easy to find his way back to the Institute that way if he felt like walking for a long time.

When exactly had everything gotten so complicated? It was actually fairly easy to answer the question when he thought about it, although it was an unusual answer. It probably happened around the time he started shooting lasers out of his eyes, although he was sure other people might've answered it was when he decided to become part of the X-men.

But no, the X-men had been symptomatic of his mutation. He'd come to the Institute, happy to be with Alex, happy to be in a place where he could learn about his mutation. He'd been eager to prove he could build a new life there, forcing himself to join every club he came across, to become president of the student body.

Scott had been shy growing up, unwilling to venture too far outside his house. He'd paid the price for his older brother's criminal activities, always being warned to go to school and come straight back, having his extracurricular activities monitored closely.

However, he didn't blame Alex. He'd never been able to, especially when he saw just how much Alex clashed with his father. How could he resent Alex from wanting to go somewhere where he was understood, somewhere where he could figure out where he was over all the yelling and fighting?

It was why he trusted him when he heard he was going to be his guardian. Scott felt like Alex could be relied on to help him, to keep him safe and, just maybe, help him find himself too. For the past few years, it had worked out pretty good.

He stopped walking suddenly and bowed his head. Maybe he should've been the better person when he got into the argument. However, sometimes he wanted the world to know that he was only eighteen, that he was still young and stupid, still learning, had just reached adulthood.

Scott shook his head glumly and headed back to the Institute. It was a nice fantasy, but it wouldn't happen. He hadn't been a child since the world turned red for him and he most certainly wasn't stupid.

He lived in a school after all.

* * *

"Look, I'm not saying you didn't have a right to be angry," Ororo said, "I think we both know where I stand on all this. But...Warren, seriously? Some of that stuff you were trying to do was pretty serious."

"Yes, Ro, thanks for reminding me," Warren muttered.

Ororo raised her eyebrows, but said nothing. Warren rolled over on the bed, his wings fluttering behind him slightly as he did so. It always felt good to stretch them after a long sparring match which was, more or less, what he'd been doing.

His entire back ached, as did his shoulders. Hank had been giving him a disapproving look when he'd patched him up, so Warren hadn't been paying as much attention as he probably should have. All he knew was there were bruises there.

The fact that he'd actually lost it on the mat wasn't something that bore repeating.

"What are you going to tell the Professor?" asked Ororo.

Her voice had softened a little big, and Warren sighed. Leave it to her to remember that there were still other problems he had to face.

"Dunno," he said, "I don't think he'd appreciate the truth."

"And what was the truth?" asked Ororo.

His jaw tightened. He wasn't sure he wanted to tell his friend the truth either.

"Warren?" she asked.

He ran a hand through his hair.

"Scott's always so damn emotionless when he fights me," Warren said, "When he's sparring with you or Jubilee or...Jean...he always, like, you can see when he's frustrated. You can see when he's really pushing himself."

He clenched his eyes shut.

"But not with me," he said, "It's like looking at a goddamn robot."

Warren opened his eyes, remembering his frustration from earlier in the day.

"I just wanted to see him lose it," he said, "Just once, just for a couple of minutes, just so I could know what the hell was going on inside his head."

"And why did you want to see that?" asked Ororo.

 _To know he's upset about this too,_ Warren thought, _To know he's as angry at me as I am at him. That he wants an apology too. To know that, even if he's better at everything else, he still feels the same shit._

"Dunno," he said.

"Warren, I'm worried about you," Ororo said.

"Thanks," he said, "You're making me feel so much better."

"This isn't about making you feel better," Ororo said, "And you're an idiot if you think it is. This is about making sure you don't get thrown off the team."

"Maybe I should be," he shot back, "It'd make everyone feel a lot less uncomfortable, wouldn't it?"

"Don't be an idiot," Ororo said.

He snorted and sat up, stretching his wings.

"Come on Ro," he said, "Say you're the Professor, and two people on your team are causing trouble. Getting rid of one of them would probably be the easy solution, right? You'd be down a fighter, but you'd also have a lot less to worry about."

"Warren!" she snapped.

"Well it's true," he snapped back, "And if you were the Professor, who would you decide to keep? The kid who flies and started the fight, or the kid who's the brother of one of your oldest students and friends?"

"You're getting weird," Ororo said.

"It's the easy solution," insisted Warren.

"Oh come on," Ororo said, annoyed, "When has the Professor ever chosen the easy solution?"

Warren continued to hold her gaze for a few minutes, too stubborn to back down.

"When I was a thief on the streets of Morocco, being hounded by...that thing," she said, her voice sharp, "The easy thing would've been to leave me. But no. He challenged it, defeated it, took me home."

He felt a little guilty. Ororo didn't like talking about her life before the Institute. They'd been camping once, and he'd caught her in the middle of a nightmare, muttering the words "Shadow King." She'd told him she'd been in the service of another mutant, one with mind powers, but even he'd never heard anything more than that.

"And it would've been easier to leave you with your father than to fight for you to come here," she said, "But he didn't take the easy way out. He fought for you Warren, and he did it without telepathy, and I'm damn sure that would've been easier."

He looked away, feeling ashamed.

"Sorry," he muttered, "But...I think I screwed up this time Ro."

The bed sank down, and he realized Ororo was sitting next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah," she said, "You did. But..."

Warren could almost hear the shrug.

"I guess you have to convince him that, if nothing else, you wish you hadn't," she said.


	12. Chapter 12

It had taken them hours to fully explore the Institute. Charles had shown Kurt all of the rooms and the classrooms, sprinkling in stories about his mother. Kurt couldn't help the slight thrill building in his heart. He'd learned more about his mother in one afternoon than he had in the past eighteen years.

However, he could tell his uncle was holding something back. Kurt hadn't failed to notice how he always spoke of Raven when she was a little girl or a young teen. Never of when she was a young adult. Had their separation really occurred that early?

Kurt wasn't sure, and it seemed rude to ask. At least, he knew it was rude this early in their acquaintance. In another few weeks, perhaps a month, he could set to figuring things out, putting dates and places to vague thoughts and possibilities.

It might be selfish, but he wanted to be able to do that without having the Professor ask him any questions about his past. Again, it was selfish, but keeping the story of a fight secret was entirely different from what he was trying to keep secret.

At the moment though, he was perfectly content with the picture he was building in his head of his mother. Because all of his uncle's stories were centered around her as a child, so was the image he held up to himself for inspection.

Little details kept spilling out, and he drank them up greedily. His mother had never been particularly tall, but she was of medium height. She had slicked-back red hair, caused by some sort of oil that her scalp kept producing. Kurt had that happen to him from time to time, but never enough to slick back his entire head of hair. It did mean that his thick raven hair was a little oily though.

But she had his eyes, and his skin. When he tried to pin down her exact features, it was a little more difficult. However, he could see her lips twisted up with a mischievous smile. From Charles's stories, such an expression would suit her.

He knew he was romanticizing the woman who'd left him, but he couldn't help it. Charles made her sound so free, so full of life in all of his stories. Even though he hadn't outright said it, he could tell she had cared very deeply about his uncle. She'd been adopted after all and, unlike so many other children who were adopted, had been chosen by her future brother, not a prospective parent.

So it stood to reason she would care about him. He was the one who'd taken her off the streets. It was only when he tried to line this up with the image of the woman who'd left him that words failed him.

If she'd been taken off the streets, wouldn't she know how painful it was to be abandoned? Surely she would've felt some sort of compassion for the child she was leaving behind to a life without her. There must have been some flicker somewhere of regret, of pain.

He sighed as he thought about it. So many contradictions. There must be something he was missing somewhere, perhaps something to do with whoever his father was. She could change appearance, had she been hiding her mutation from his father? If she had, Kurt's birth would've erased all chances she'd had of hiding that she was a mutant.

Kurt was so lost in his thoughts that, at first, he didn't realize they had gone full circle and returned to Charles's office. He hadn't even realized his uncle was staring at him. After a few minutes he noticed the silence and blushed, knowing it turned his face an unattractive purple color.

"Forgive me," he said, "I vas...not really...um..."

His uncle graced him with a sad, understanding smile.

"I understand that this is a lot to take in," he said, "I know that this must be very difficult for you."

His uncle looked down suddenly, as though thinking deeply about what he wanted to say next. Even though he'd only known him for a day, his uncle struck him as the kind of man who thought through every move he made very carefully.

"I appreciate that you came to me for help," he said, "I know you knew nothing about me before now, but you trusted that I would respect the bond of our blood. And you were right, of course you were, but I am happy that that bond meant something to you too."

"I...I did not really haf anozzer choice," Kurt said.

He shifted awkwardly as he said it, feeling guilty.

"Not zat I regret my decision, but zat ist vhat I thought," he said, "I just vanted to be somevhere safe, und ze only one I knew vas eine uncle."

"You did have another choice actually," said Charles, "You really could have just fled the country."

Kurt stiffened. His uncle could read minds. Had he peeked into Kurt's mind?

"That should have taken care of just about any trouble you found yourself in," he said.

The tenseness that had been building in Kurt's shoulders melted away, followed by a crippling wave of guilt. Even after Charles had let him know that he preferred not to read the minds of others to see what they were thinking, he'd still thought the worst of him.

Even the memory of having thought that only out of panic didn't do much good.

"Unless the trouble is of a very peculiar nature," Charles said, "And, while I don't want to pry, there is one thing I need to know."

The tension returned.

"Is your life in danger?" his uncle asked.

Kurt relaxed again, feeling as though he were going through some sort of cycle.

"Nein," Kurt said.

"Are you sure?" asked Charles, "I don't ask to pry, but if there is someone who wishes you harm, then I can and will take steps to protect you."

Kurt smiled, but inside he felt like crying. Charles had welcomed him into his house, into a school, with no words of condemnations, no criticism, only acceptance. He asked about Kurt's past, but only enough to know if he needed to be protected.

 _The Spirit and the Bride say, "Come." And let the one who hears say, "Come." And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price._

It was a verse he'd held dear to his heart, made all the more precious by the fact that it came from the book of Revelations. It wasn't a book people usually went to for comfort, but Kurt had learned things were often very different from what they appeared.

"Nein," Kurt said, "Not anymore. You are right about vone zing: I zink I just needed to leave the country."

Charles nodded understandingly. There was a knock on the door, and the understanding look on his face was briefly replaced with irritation.

"Come in," he sighed.

A teenager with red sunglasses entered. He looked surprised by the sight of Kurt, but quickly recovered. Kurt wondered if he'd seen anyone like him before, even at a mutant school. The teen cleared his throat nervously, almost as though trying to figure out how to continue.

"Yes, Scott?" his uncle asked.

There was an underlying current of irritation there, one Kurt shared. Whatever Scott had to say could wait for a little bit, couldn't it? It was almost fall, meaning Scott'd had a lot more time with his uncle than he had.

"I just...we're going to be having that meeting here in about forty minutes," Scott said nervously, glancing at Kurt, "I was wondering if I could talk to you beforehand."

"What about?" asked Charles.

His uncle sounded curious and almost suspicious. It was the type of tone a teacher would use to a student he suspected was trying to play a trick.

"Just um...stuff," Scott said.

Charles looked at Scott a moment more.

"Kurt, I'm sorry, but I think the rest of my afternoon will be rather full," he said, "I would be happy if you could join me for dinner at around six though."

"Oh, ja," Kurt said.

He knew his uncle was a busy man, but this was the second time today.

"I'll see about taking tomorrow off entirely," Charles said.

Kurt grinned and nodded. He walked out of the room, carefully edging around Scott. The teen seemed nervous enough without having Kurt make any sudden movements. That meant teleporting might not be a great idea, especially since he couldn't quite see where he was going.

He closed the door and leaned on the rails to the stair case. What was he supposed to do now? He supposed he could go to his room, or maybe the library, but Kurt wasn't sure. He'd never been good at sitting still for long periods of time, and he knew both of those activities would require time spent stationary.

Kurt cracked his neck, wondering what to do, when he heard footsteps. He turned and saw a blonde-teen walking down the hall, his head bowed and his hands shoved in his pockets. It wasn't an unusual sight, not until he spotted the teen's snowy-white wings.

It took every fiber in his being to resist gaping at him. From long ago, he could hear Stefan's voice whispering to him.

 _How do you know you're the only one out there like this? How do you know that, right now, at this very moment, there isn't..."_

The teen looked up at him, stopping outside his uncle's office.

"Is he talking to someone in there?" he asked.

Kurt nodded, trying not to stare. It wouldn't make a good impression.

"Goddamnit," the teen said.

"You shouldn't svear," Kurt said.

The words left his lips before he knew it, and he winced. It was one thing to encourage Amanda and Stefan not to take the Lord's name in vain, but the teen in front of him was a complete stranger. Kurt saw him raise his eyebrows.

"O-kay," the teen said, drawing out the syllables, "You know when they're gonna be done?"

Kurt shrugged. The teen ran a hand through his hair and leaned on the rails next to Kurt. He folded his arms across his chest, looking forward glumly. Finally he sighed and looked over at Kurt.

"I don't think I've seen you before," he said.

"I just got here," Kurt said.

The teen held out a hand.

"Warren," he said.

Kurt shook it, once again noting that he'd found someone who wouldn't pull away from his handshake.

"Kurt," he said.

"Are you a new student here?" Warren asked.

Kurt paused, and then decided a half truth would do for now.

"I think I'm just passing through," he said.

Warren shrugged.

"Okay," he said.

The word was said differently than the first time he spoke though. The first time, he'd been a little confused, but not hostile. Kurt could read his tone, tell that what he was really saying was "idiot."

"Vhat does zhat mean?" Kurt asked.

"What it sounds like," said Warren, "I just can't believe there's someone out there that's too stupid to see a good thing when they have it."

The teen drew his arms closer to his chest.

"I know I haven't been great about it in the past, but at least I knew the Institute was great when I saw it," he said, "At least I wanted to be here."

Inwardly, Kurt wanted to be offended but, for some reason, he couldn't quite bring himself to feel that way.

"If only it vere as simple as doing vhat I vant," Kurt said.

He expected Warren to protest, looked over at him, ready to see his scowl. Instead he saw Warren had resumed that same glum look.

"Yeah," he said, "I know what that feels like."


	13. Chapter 13

Warren had never seen the teen who was standing next to him before, so it had been easy to deduce that he was a new student. It had been less easy to deduce that he was, in fact, not a student.

After all, who just passed through the Institute? Okay, he'd seen a few people come to visit, but they'd been parents or friends of teachers. They hadn't been teens or children, and they hadn't seemed so uncertain about what they were going to do.

As someone with a physical mutation, Warren had always prided himself on knowing what it felt like to be shunned because of your appearance. Sometimes he wondered if there were two kinds of mutants, the ones who understood that and the ones who didn't.

Yes, people like Jean, Ororo, Jubilee and Scott could do strange and amazing things. However, if they weren't doing it right then, then it was actually pretty easy to hide and blend in with the population. Ororo, if she wished, could dye her hair. Or she could leave it like it was: it actually looked like it was coming into fashion.

Regardless, their mutations gave them different experiences than his, different fears. Whenever Warren went home, he had to slip into one of many specially made harnesses. His father had spared no expense, and the thought almost brought a sneer to Warren's lips. His father would do anything to disguise the fact he had a freak for a son.

It always felt like someone had taken his arm and tied it to his side. It wasn't painful: just uncomfortable. His wings would ache underneath his shirt or his coat, longing to be free. At the Institute he could wear shirts with slits in the back, allowing his wings to stretch, to move and rest as they had always meant to do so.

The Institute was the one place that he could even come close to being himself. To see someone with a physical mutation, and such a painfully obvious one, not appreciate that, had boggled Warren's mind.

But then he'd spoken of not being able to do what he wanted to do, and Warren had understood. Perhaps Kurt had parents somewhere who didn't approve, had only sent him for a short time because of the Professor's splendid negotiating skills.

"Sucks to suck, doesn't it?" he said.

"I haf not heard zat vone," Kurt said.

"Really?" asked Warren.

"Ja. Und it does not make sense," Kurt said, "I am not...perfect vith English, but zat does not make sense."

Warren frowned and went over the words in his head. Miss Coy Manh often said English was the hardest language to learn because of all its strange metaphors and words with dual meanings and similar spellings.

"Guess not," Warren admitted, "I just meant that the situation really blows."

He paused, wondering if Kurt understood that. To his relief he saw him nod.

"Ja," he said.

"But hey, you're here now," Warren said, nudging Kurt's shoulder, "That's not bad, right?"

Kurt smiled and nodded.

"Have you been here a long time?" he asked.

"Four years," Warren said, "I have to go home for the summers though."

He made a face.

"But other than that it's been pretty good," he said, "Except, well..."

He let out a frustrated breath. Never mind. There was no point in telling a complete stranger about his feelings, or the crazy situation that was quickly taking over his life. Kurt didn't need to hear any of that shit.

"Vhat?" asked Kurt.

"Nothing," Warren said.

Kurt still looked curious, but, surprisingly, he didn't try to pry. Warren was liking him already.

"So, how'd you hear about this place?" he asked.

"Oh, um, mein uncle vorks here," Kurt said.

"No shit?" asked Warren.

Kurt shook his head.

"No, he does," Kurt said.

"Come on, which teacher is it?" asked Warren, "None of 'em have German accents. Only other language we get taught is French, and that's only with Miss Coy Manh, and she is definitely not German."

"Mein uncle ist not German," Kurt said.

"Oh," said Warren, "Your dad hafta move for work or something?"

"Somezing like zat," Kurt muttered.

Warren suddenly realized Kurt wasn't making eye contact anymore. He coughed. Maybe he was being too nosy, which was actually pretty bad considering he'd been alright about not prying into Warren's problems.

"So is this trip like your first to America?" asked Warren.

"Ja," Kurt said.

"Great," Warren said, "If you have a chance, head down to New York City. They have some absolutely fabulous pizza there, and it's just not the same in Europe. I mean, you guys try and all, and I get that the Italians invented it, but Americans are the ones who made into gooey fatty goodness."

"Sounds a lot like Americans from vhat I hear," Kurt said.

Warren threw his head back and laughed. Yeah, he was liking Kurt. Almost made him forget that he was pretty much awaiting his death sentence.

"Vhat ist vrong vith Italian pizza?" Kurt asked, "It ist gut."

"Yeah, it's alright," said Warren, "But I feel like I'm eating something that's good for me when I eat it."

"You've been to Italy?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah," Warren said, "Six times."

Kurt didn't look impressed, only intrigued. Telling people who weren't from Europe that he'd been to Italy six times usually garnered a gasp of disbelief.

"My dad was there on business," Warren said, "He likes to take me along for father son trips."

It was impossible to keep the derision out of his voice when he spoke of his father. His father had always insisted he was going to inherit the family business one day, and that meant going to all the branches and meeting all the different CEOs and managers.

And every time, his father kept glancing at his back, as though worried the harness would pop a button and leave Warren's wings out for the entire world to see. The jig would be up then. God he hated his father.

"Not zat fun zen?" Kurt ventured.

"Nah," Warren said, deciding once again to sidestep his dirty laundry, "They were a little too cultural for me. I prefer more hands on activities."

"Such as?" asked Kurt.

Warren went to answer, but then he looked at his watch. It was time for his date with destiny.

"I'll tell you later," he said, pushing himself off the rail, "Wish me luck."

"Vith vhat?" Kurt asked.

Warren snorted.

"Everything," he said.

* * *

"You do know what you're suggesting, don't you?" asked Charles.

He wasn't sure how long they'd been talking, but he still felt the need to ask the question. After all, he'd watched Scott grow up, watched him go from idolizing his brother to mimicking him with his own personal changes.

This was something Alex would never suggest though.

"I know," Scott said.

His voice was calm and reasonable, everything Charles knew Alex would not be when he heard Scott had made this request.

"I'm not certain you do," Charles said, "So let's start from the beginning, and I want to be very clear about this."

Scott nodded, although Charles could see the lingering uncertainty in his eyes.

"You want me to take you off the team," he said.

"Just for a while," said Scott, "I mean, that's up to your discretion of course."

His tone made Charles sigh. Always so respectful.

"I don't think that my presence is being very conducive to the team's cohesiveness at the moment," Scott said, his face blank, "I know my presence is affecting Warren, and I know things are still complicated with Ororo. Jubilee still works well with me, but I know she gets nervous whenever Warren and I walk into a room together. And then there's...Jean."

Charles heard a hitch in Scott's voice.

"I don't want to make this any more difficult for her than it already is," he said.

He gave Scott a long look, and then closed his eyes.

"I think I know why you're suggesting this," he said.

"Professor, I just want to be proactive," Scott said, "I know I didn't make the adult choice last time, and I want to make it this time."

Charles didn't even blink.

"I think you know what I've decided," he said.

Scott looked uncomfortable, and there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Charles said.

Warren opened the door and walked in. He spotted Scott immediately, and a sulky line descended over his eyes. The last few doubts Charles had about the course of action he'd chosen vanished when he saw that.

"Have a seat," Charles said.

Warren did so, making sure not to look at Scott. Charles put his hands on the desk.

"Warren, Scott was just in my office telling me he should be taken off the team for a while to preserve the team's integrity," Charles said.

The teen's eyes flicked over to Scott. Charles thought he'd look grateful or, at the very least a little surprised. Instead there was only hostility there. It surprised Charles but, again, it was one of the reasons why he'd made his decision.

It had all become so clear after talking to Kurt.

"I'm not taking him up on his offer," Charles said.

"Professor-" Scott tried.

"No," Charles said.

He made sure to make eye contact with them when he spoke next. There couldn't be any doubt.

"The solution to this problem isn't as simple as removing one or two members from the team," Charles said, "We've already tried to see if cooler heads would prevail, but they didn't. The fact of the matter is, you let your decisions outside of the uniform dictate what happened once you put it on. And that is far too dangerous for me to allow to continue."

Scott swallowed. He knew what was going on, even if Warren only looked vaguely puzzled.

"The fact of the matter is I now have three factions where I once had a team," Charles said, "Jubilee is staying neutral, but that means its very lonely and difficult for her right now with the rest of you. Ororo and Jean are barely on speaking terms. And then there's the two of you, the worst offenders by far."

He let his voice become softer. He remembered his nephew's quiet confidence, his maturity in the face of what must be overwhelming odds. It reminded him of what they had asked from the X-men when they first signed up, what they had all sworn to be.

What they were very decidedly not.

"The real problem isn't just the two of you," he said, "It's all of you. I understand things can be difficult when you're young but, unfortunately, you took on roles where you couldn't afford to let something like this spiral out of control."

He leaned back.

"We never had the right to ask this much of you," he said, "But we did, and you said you could handle it. But clearly, you can't."

Scott slumped in his chair, and Warren's eyes flickered between him and the Professor.

"That's why, for the next three months, I'm benching the entire team," Charles said.

"What?" Warren shouted.

"You heard me," said Charles, "You're not a team right now: you're a walking liability. I will not have your deaths on my conscience, not when I could have helped."

"That's not fair though!" Warren protested, "Ororo didn't do anything-"

"Yes, she did," Charles said, "And so did Jean, and so did Jubilee. They might not be trying to break each others noses, but you all contributed to that. And you will all be punished accordingly. I'm going to be speaking to the three of them this afternoon."

His voice lowered.

"And in three weeks, I expect you all to have figured this out," he said, "Otherwise, I think we have another very serious discussion in our future."


	14. Chapter 14

"Is something bothering you Kurt?" his uncle asked.

Kurt chewed and swallowed, because it was difficult to find the correct words. The sandwich itself was easy enough to eat. There seemed to be a lot of those around lunchtime, and Kurt often wondered at the processed bread. There was no resistance to it.

It made him miss when Margali and Amanda would make rolls. Amanda would always complain bitterly about it, but she was a very good cook. He'd never been allowed into the kitchen after the time he and Stefan had made dough with too much water and compensated by smearing it all over each other's faces and shirts while wrestling.

He'd been at the Institute for almost a week, but every day seemed more surreal than the last. He'd never been in a place so accepting, so calm. The Institute was a nice place, and he was enjoying spending time with his uncle. Charles was thoughtful and kind, and obviously eager to get to know Kurt.

Kurt had never had that before, and it was an odd feeling. Sure, Stefan and Amanda had always cared about him. However, he'd grown up with them. There were a few other people at the circus that he'd considered friends, more or less, but he'd never had anyone who actively wanted to know who he was.

It made him feel all the worse about concealing why he was there. Sure, Charles seemed content to let things lie for now. However, Kurt believed in being honest and, the more he got to know Charles, the more uncomfortable he got with keeping a secret from him.

However, it was still his secret and his shame for a reason, and he would deal with it privately. He might not believe in lying, but he did believe in not bothering people with unnecessary knowledge. Charles didn't need to know the events of that night.

So Kurt tried to focus his energy into other things. His uncle was spending a lot of time with him, which he appreciated, but he also felt bad about disrupting his life. Hank and Alex, who he'd been introduced to his second day at the Institute, seemed to have a pretty good grip on things. However, he could tell that his uncle was a necessary part to the smooth operation of the Institute.

He was worried he was sucking up his uncle's time, and it underlined that Kurt didn't really fit in there. Kurt was neither a student or a teacher. In a place that was meant to be a haven for misfits, he was the odd one out.

"Just zinking," Kurt said.

"I can see that," said Charles, amused, "I was simply wondering what you were thinking about."

Kurt managed a brief smile before looking around him.

"I vas...vondering if maybe I should start taking some courses," he said.

Something joyful flashed in Charles's eyes, but it was gone so quickly that he wondered if he'd imagined it.

"Really?" he asked, his voice calm.

"Um, ja," Kurt said.

He licked his lips. A sudden thought occurred for him, a possible explanation for that joy if it had actually been there. Prickles of guilt crept up his spine. Maybe Charles thought his interest in courses was indicating a desire to stay there permanently.

Although it pained him, he would have to set the record straight.

"I may not be here for long," Kurt said, "But...it seems like I should do somezing."

Charles's face remained neutral, and Kurt wondered if he'd overthought the situation.

"I see," he said, "Well, and this is just based on what you'd told me, I would certainly start putting you in the GED classes."

"Vhat?" asked Kurt.

"It's for people who are old enough to have graduated high school but they were unable to attend most of the grades," Charles explained, "Usually the people involved are a little older, but we do have courses on that for mutants who want to attend college here or at another institution."

"Oh," Kurt said.

He shifted. He'd never thought of himself as being behind academically, and he'd never really been interested in pursuing an education. He'd always thought his life would be tied to the circus, and he'd be part of the act.

Amanda had been the first one to make him doubt that. She'd told him she wanted to get out when she got older, go to America, leave the country. She'd told him she had plans, had been saving money from odd side jobs she'd worked during the winter. One day, she told him, she was going to go to school and get an education, and then she was going to be anything she wanted.

His stomach fell when he thought about that. He knew perfectly well that she'd spent almost every penny she had to get those boat tickets, tickets that only Kurt had been able to use. The little money she'd had left had been spent on him getting to his uncle and her getting home.

It was quite possible he'd set her dream back for years.

"Kurt?" Charles asked.

"Ja," said Kurt, blinking.

Charles was looking at him, concerned.

"Are you sure you really want to do this?" he asked, "I won't force you if you don't want to, and you shouldn't feel as though you have to do this to please me."

Kurt flushed. That's what he'd interpreted his silence as?

"Nein," Kurt said, "I zink it vill be a gut idea."

And he honestly meant it. He couldn't go back to the circus, and he had no idea how to go about getting involved in another one. It was probably best that he didn't perform in front of crowds too: it wasn't a good idea for a wanted murderer to parade himself around.

And then there was Amanda. It was unlikely she would be able to have the chance he had in front of him. While he couldn't make it so she lived through him, he could at least make sure he was taking advantage of an opportunity she would want.

* * *

Amanda was sick to death of her mother. It wasn't a respectful thought, but the two of them had gone so far past respectful and disrespectful these days that it didn't matter. She was starting to actively hate her, and she had always prided herself on being able to separate her emotions from most of her serious choices.

She'd said she was casting her mother off, and she'd meant it. Amanda didn't have time to waste dealing with hypocrites or people who wouldn't listen. She'd never thought her mother would fall into either of those categories, but she knew no one was perfect. The best thing to do in this case was to cut her losses and admit she'd been wrong about her mother.

However, she still had to be around her, and it was driving her crazy. People were starting to question why they weren't together more often. Surely they were grieving? One son was dead and the family's ward had disappeared. Most people hadn't put the dots together because they were missing crucial information, but it was a pitiful situation from their point of view.

In situations like these, people in the circus community drew closer together. Amanda had seen people go through loss in their community, whether it was by disease or violence, and she'd cooked enough food and scrubbed enough floors for grieving families to know what to do.

People were trying to do the same thing to her now, and it was driving her crazy. Everyone knew she and Kurt were lovers and, the idea that he had disappeared after her brother's death, made her a major object of pity.

Everyone kept giving her sympathetic looks, as though they could possibly understand what she was going through. She wanted to scream at them all to leave her alone, but she had to keep her head down, had to play the victim.

Her mother wasn't making it easy though. While she hadn't implicated Kurt in Stefan's death either to the police or the community, she certainly used whatever opportunity to twist the knife in Amanda's back deeper.

She would give her a nasty look whenever someone said they were sorry for her loss. Whenever people asked if there was news of Kurt Margali would brush them off, or say that she was sure he would be along any day now. After all, she would add nastily, he never could be without Amanda for long.

There was nowhere to escape, no time where she could just lay down and scream out her feelings. If she cried in the trailer, her mother would hear. The other places weren't private enough, and she had the feeling her mother was just waiting for her to slip up and make a mistake.

Maybe it was paranoid, but it was enough for Amanda to start thinking. If she was this paranoid, this afraid and angry after a week, then who was to say it wouldn't get worse? Amanda couldn't feel any love for her mother at the moment, but that didn't mean she wanted to hurt her. She was afraid that feeling would change in the coming months.

So, she got to planning. There were about four months between her and Christmas. That meant there were four months between her and Kurt, between her and someone who would understand and truly sympathize with what she was feeling.

At the rate she was going, there would be no money for her to get to America though. No money to get to the one person she had left. Amanda had to go on the assumption that his uncle had taken him in, or at least would do so until she reached him. If he hadn't, then she was sure Kurt would figure out a way to leave her some sort of sign that things had gone wrong.

Regardless, that was too long to for her to stay with her mother. They were going to stop travelling in a month or two for the colder months and she could start picking up odd jobs and saving up money.

Once again, it was too long. It was too much time spent doing nothing, and there would be very, very little money to get where she needed to go. She wasn't like Kurt, who could teleport for two miles at a time. No, she would have to walk that distance, and if that was the case, then she might as well start walking now.

She came to the conclusion that she needed to leave the circus entirely and work full time somewhere else. It might look a little suspicious, but she could sob about how there were too many memories. People who left the circus sometimes did that, and people always left them alone. Maybe it would work for her too.

So she began flipping through newspaper and magazine advertisements, looking for a job that would take her away from the circus and her mother. She was in her third magazine when she found something she thought was perfect.

It was an advertisement for airline stewardesses, and you could interview over the phone. Amanda knew of a few pay phones she could get to so no one would suspect what she was doing. She'd have to mail a few forms, but she figured she could do that easily enough.

The pay wasn't fabulous, but the job had the perk that she could get free air fare on some voyages. Maybe that would be enough to get her to America, get her to Kurt. Once they were together they could figure out what to do.

Yes, that was what she'd do. Come hell or high water, she was meeting him for Christmas.


	15. Chapter 15

Jean was, quite frankly, miserable. The last few months had been some of the worst in her life, topped only by when she first received her powers. In the course of three months she had gained the one she had pined over, only to be cruelly deprived of nearly all her closest friends directly afterwards.

Now she had been deprived of her mission as an X-man too. She wondered who was doing this to her life, and what was the point in making her so miserable. What had she done to deserve this?

It couldn't be maliciousness on the part of the Professor. It wasn't who he was. But the punishment still seemed heavy handed. Why did they all need to be punished this way? Why should everyone be punished for the mistakes of a few?

When she'd been younger, she'd been the strange girl on the block, the one people stayed away from. When she came to the Institute, it had seemed like a godsend. Everyone wanted to be her friend, to know more about her. They said she was smart, something she hadn't known having been homeschooled her entire life. She'd never had anyone to compare herself to.

She'd had friends. She'd been popular. She'd even been a good X-man, considered herself a hero. True, she'd had trouble getting up the nerve to tell Scott she was developing feelings for him. However, even that had been alright, because that was something she knew normal girls struggled with too. Jean had read books about that.

She hadn't read books about the heroine being so distracted with her own life that she didn't notice someone else was growing feelings for her. She hadn't realized how Warren felt until he'd come out and said it. Jean hadn't wanted to hurt him, but when he'd ask if she'd give it a try, just to see how things go, she'd confessed she was already with someone. Things had gone downhill from there.

The tutor tables were empty that day, so she had plenty of time to think. If things were different, then Ororo or Jubilee would be there to keep her company. Jubilee would bring potato chips and Ororo would make jokes about how skinny she was even though she ate all that junk food.

Warren would be there a lot too. He helped tutor sometimes, and he was always fun to talk to. They shared a lot of interests and had read a lot of the same books. Looking back, maybe she should have realized why he was always so eager to talk to her.

Jean felt tears in her eyes. She didn't think any of those things would ever happen again. At least Jubilee hadn't abandoned her when things had gotten tough. Jubilee had decided to toe a delicate line, and Jean had tried to let her stay there. That way, she could at least still talk to all of her friends.

Ororo hadn't spoken more than five sentences to her in the past few weeks. Warren wouldn't even look at her. Not that they were together very often, not since the Professor had effectively suspended them from the team. They could still practice, if they chose, but most of those had been individual sessions. They all knew they weren't allowed to wear their uniforms, and that made all the difference.

The only person she could really talk to was Scott. He was a comfort and a support, and Jean didn't regret being with him. What she did regret was that he'd lost just as much as she had, perhaps even more so.

Scott had told her his brother was furious with him. They hadn't talked in a while, not since the team had been suspended. Alex hadn't said much apparently, but he'd told Scott that he knew he was capable of more than this.

Ever since then, Alex and Hank had been fulfilling the roles that the rest of them couldn't. There had been a mission that they'd had to take care of, and Jean had been on tenterhooks the entire night. What if something happened to them? There was only two of them.

They'd been fine, but it had opened her eyes to the danger of the situation. What had the Professor done? He'd always had his reasons, but this seemed to be putting Hank and Alex in danger. Surely he knew it would be better for all of them to take to the field?

"Entschuldigen?

Jean looked up. A boy with golden eyes and dark blue skin was looking at her nervously. There were a few books clutched in his hands, and Jean was struck by the fact that she'd never seen him around the Institute before.

She quickly plastered on a smile.

"Can I help?" she asked.

The boy nodded, still looking nervous. Jean gestured to the seat next to her, and he sat down gratefully.

"I'm Jean," she said.

"Kurt," he said.

He put the books down on the table.

"What subject are you having trouble with?" she asked.

Kurt's face flushed purple.

"All of zem," he muttered.

Jean gave him a sympathetic smile. It wasn't the first time she'd gotten that response from someone who came to the tutor tables. She looked over at the books. All of them were manuals for the GED test the school offered.

"Well, which one are you having the most trouble with?" she asked, "We can start there."

Kurt nudged the history workbook closer to her. She blinked. It was usually the math portion people had trouble with.

"What's difficult about this?" Jean asked.

Kurt gave her a miserable look. She suddenly cursed herself.

"You don't know any American history, do you?" she asked.

"Nein," Kurt said glumly, "Or not much besides ze var. Mein teachers did not zink it vas important."

She gave him another sympathetic smile. They didn't get too many students from other countries, but she could see how that portion of the GED must seem like an insurmountable mountain to them.

Jean opened up the workbook and looked at the first part.

"The thing about history is that, unfortunately, you really just have to study it," she said, "You have to read what it is. This will take time, but it's not impossible."

Kurt nodded, but he still seemed frustrated.

"Just treat it like a novel," she said, "Read through everything, and then try to answer questions. If you keep reading it over to yourself, repeating it and answering the questions, then I swear it will get easier."

"I suppose," Kurt said, "It's just...I did not zink..."

He sighed.

"Getting a...GED," he said slowly, "Vas not vhat I had planned on."

"Why not?" asked Jean.

It wasn't an accusation. She just felt like she needed to know his motivations if she was going to try to help him.

"I vas alvays just going to stay at ze circus," he sighed, "Und I vas nefer going to go to college, so zere vas no point."

"You were part of a circus?" Jean said.

She asked the question cautiously. Perhaps it wasn't like it sounded, but she'd seen far too much of what humanity could be like to mutants to be careless.

"As an acrobat," Kurt said.

There was a slight edge to his tone.

"I vas part of ze trapeze act," he said, "I vould perform vith mein friends, und it vas fun."

"Oh," Jean said.

He smiled, showing pointed fangs.

"Zey used to call me ze Incredible Nightcrawler," he said.

It was hard to miss the pride in his voice. This time she gave him a smile that wasn't meant to be sympathetic or understanding. It was clear to see that he was remembering something good about his life.

However, he was at the Institute. People whose lives had been sunshine and roses tended not to come to the Institute. Jean knew something had happened to take him away from the life he had loved. She just hoped it was something that could be fixed.

"Sounds like fun," she said.

"It vas," Kurt said, "But zey vere not big on book learning. Usually it vas ein punishment, like vhen Amanda fell."

"Sorry, what?" asked Jean.

Purple tinted Kurt's face again.

"Ja," he said, suddenly looked uncomfortable, "Um, Margali, zat ist zeir mozzer, told zem not to use ze trapeze because there vere no adults. Ve vere only ten zen. Amanda asked Stefan if she could practice. He said no too."

He shook his head.

"But Amanda, she is very fearless, decided to go on anyvay. I told her not to practice, but she didn't listen," Kurt said, "So I stayed, und Amanda missed a turn. Zere vas no net."

His eyes focused on the table. Jean couldn't even begin to imagine what he must have felt when he watched that.

"So I teleported und managed to get her before she fell to ze ground," Kurt said, "Amanda had screamed, und zeir mozzer came in. She vas fine though. I vas so proud of zat."

"You can teleport?" asked Jean, fascinated.

He nodded, still not looking up.

"Margali punished all three of us," he said, "I did not disobey, told zem not to, but I did not tell her. She said I should have come to her. She said Stefan should have vatched better, und Amanda, vell, zat vas obvious."

"That must have been tough," Jean said.

"Ja," Kurt said, "I did not see vhy she had to punish all of us. Stefan had done his job. But she told me zat ve vere ein team. She said zat ze actions of vone could effect us all. Und until ve realized zat, until ve acted as vone, she vas not going to let us back on ze trapeze."

Jean froze.

"She said it vas too dangerous," Kurt said, oblivious, "She said until ve came togezzer, ve vere all going to be suspended. I remember Stefan vas very mad at us for a few days. But he got over it, and ve all talked zings out. Amanda promised to be more careful, und I promised to not give up so easily next time."

Jean felt as though all of the lights had turned on in her head. Was that what the Professor was trying to do? Give them time to put their heads together so they could all figure things out and come back as the unit they once were, the unit they had to be?

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that was what was going on. This wasn't something that had to be worked out between her and Warren or Scott and Warren. All of them had been punished because, as the Professor had observed, they were all part of the problem.

That meant that they were all also part of the solution. She felt like she needed to write this down, to run and tell Scott. He needed to know so they could get the others together and talk about what had happened. They needed to do something about this, and fast.

"But zat vas a long time ago," Kurt said, "Und I became much better at teleporting, so ve didn't really need to vorry about a net in ze future."

He shrugged.

"But...I zink maybe ve should get back to ze history," he said, his voice disdainful.

Jean snapped back to reality. She still had another hour at the tutor table before she could go tell everyone about what she'd found out. She gave Kurt a genuine smile though. He could very well have fixed a large chunk of her problems without realizing it.

The least she could do was help him pass his GED test.


	16. Chapter 16

"Are you sure?" Scott asked.

He knew he sounded doubtful, but that was because he was, and he wasn't even making a show of hiding it. He'd never seen much of a point in hiding his emotions from Jean. She was smarter than him, and keeping secrets seemed to be the equivalent of lying. The closest he'd ever come was hiding his anger over certain subjects.

However, Jean sounded so earnest, as though someone had light a million light bulbs over her head.

"I'm sure that's what he's trying to do," Jean said, "I mean, he kept saying we're all the problem."

"Then why didn't he just tell us to talk it out?" asked Scott.

He sounded petulant, but there was no reason for the Professor to hide that information. Wouldn't have been easier to get them all into one room and stage some sort of intervention? That's what he'd do.

"It's not a punishment if he did that," Jean said, "And I think he wants us to figure things out for ourselves."

Scott gave a harsh sigh.

"I don't think he'd do that," he said.

"Why not?" Jean asked.

"Because for every day that we don't figure it out my brother's in danger," Scott said, his voice growing increasingly frustrated, "I don't think he'd purposely put someone in danger just to teach other people life lessons."

Jean gave him a blank scare.

"Your brother was a marine and an X-man," she said, "I don't think he's in that much danger out on the field."

This time his anger did get the better of him, and he glared at her. Jean shrank back slightly, but didn't move.

"Scott, he teaches us," she said.

"There's him, and there's Hank," Scott said, "You know it's dangerous when there's only two of them."

"Well, maybe the Professor thinks its more dangerous to have five uncoordinated teens out there," Jean said sharply.

Scott turned away and crossed his arms. Jean walked up and stood next to him, giving him the frank, open look that had made him fall in love with her.

"I think it's not a matter of putting them in danger to teach us a lesson," she said, "I think it's him choosing between two bad choices."

"When did we become the bad choice?" Scott asked bitterly.

Jean put a hand on his shoulder.

"We don't have to be," she said, "All we have to do is go talk to Warren and the others. We can call it a truce of sorts."

She hesitated.

"Scott, please don't take this the wrong way, but I miss him," she said, "I miss being friends with him, and I miss Ororo. I miss Jubilee feeling like she could talk about anything with us."

Scott sagged.

"I understand," he said.

"You do?" Jean asked.

He nodded.

"I miss Warren," he said, "He was my best friend. It just...I didn't know he could hate me so much. And...it was just like someone flipped a switch, ya know? If you'd ended up with him I..."

Scott bit his lip, trying to figure out a way to communicate what he was feeling.

"I would've been upset," he said, "But...I would've tried to respect your choice. I would've been distant for a while, yeah, but I would've tried to be happy for you. After a couple of months. I wouldn't have been angry. Just sad that I wasn't good enough."

Jean's hand slipped from his shoulder to twine her fingers with his.

"Good enough," she laughed lightly, "Boys."

He managed a small smile.

"We should at least give this a shot Scott," she said.

He took a deep breath.

"Alright," he said, "Let's try."

* * *

Sometimes Logan wondered at the different turns his life took. For instance, there was a period a couple years ago that he couldn't remember at all. He'd gone to sleep protecting some mob boss's daughter, among other things, and woken up in the river. He'd made some decision he wasn't very proud of, done some things he wasn't very proud of.

At the moment, his current situation fit into the gray category. He leaned against the thin metal wall and looked at the scene with what he hoped was a disinterested expression. Inside his head the gears were whirring away, and not in a very pleasant direction.

He'd had faith for a lot of years in a series of several things, starting with his brother and ending with Weapon X. Lately he'd started to find joy in a small area in the Canadian wilderness, a call back to the time before he'd murdered his father, before he found out he had claws in his hands.

As long as Kayla didn't find out what it was he was doing on their little field trips, then he figured she and her sister could continue to live in peace. If he wanted to stay, he'd have to tell them eventually.

He wasn't looking forward to that day, but he had a feeling it was rapidly approaching.

"Where is he?"

The woman in the chair looked, at best, disinterested. He would've been impressed if not for the listless look in her eyes. He'd seen that too many times before. It was the look of someone who only had bitterness left, where death would've been fairly welcome.

"I hardly see how it's any of your concern," the woman said sourly.

Her German accent was so faint that he could barely hear it. Whoever she'd paid to teach her English had been well worth the money.

"Where?"

The word came out clipped and harsh. Logan stood up a little straighter, his nostrils flaring at the scent of adrenaline. He had the feeling he'd need to step in and stop the situation from escalating very soon.

The woman in the chair muttered something. Logan had picked up enough German during the war to know what that particular word meant. He detached himself from the wall in time to put a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Not worth it Blue," he said.

Mystique turned to him, her eyes flashing yellow briefly. He was more used to those than the blue ones she was wearing at the moment. Any time she pretended to be just another human was downright unusual.

"Stay out of it," she snapped.

"This is why you brought me and you know it," he said, "You wanna get her to tell us what she knows, or ya wanna kill her? I can't allow the second, and if you're gonna go down that route, I'm goin straight back ta Canada."

His friend hissed between her teeth. Logan saw the woman in the chair take a little more interest.

"Is he the new one?" she said disdainfully.

"Go screw yourself Margali," Mystique snapped, "Where's my son?"

"Ja, you want him back now," said Margali, "Hard to believe. Why?"

"Just tell me!"

Margali made a bitter face.

"I don't know," she said.

"I don't believe you," Mystique said.

Margali laughed the same kind of laugh Logan had heard from dying men.

"I've heard nothing about him since he killed my son," she said, "Go away."

Logan shifted uncomfortably. He knew this was not something Mystique wanted to hear. She'd been reluctant to come to the circus, but after hours of reviewing security footage, she'd realized she had no idea just where he'd escaped to.

"People are looking for him Margali," she said.

"Ja, authorities," Margali said, "I hope they find him."

God, if only they were dealing with authorities. Logan would be willing to cut off his foot and not have it grow back at this point to just be dealing with the police. This was, unfortunately, something a lot worse.

And, while it wasn't really his fault, it was certainly tied to him. It all came back to blood, and sometimes Logan wished he wasn't so concerned about that. But as long as these people were running around, then the two women in the Canadian wilderness he'd come to care so much about wouldn't be safe.

He wished he didn't have to work with Mystique to accomplish it, her methods were more extreme than he'd like them to be in his new life, but they both had personal stakes in this. It meant he could count on her to see things through to the end.

Again, it all came back to blood.

"Not them," said Mystique, "People a lot more dangerous than them."

"I hope they find him too then," Margali snapped.

Mystique snarled, and Logan tightened his grip on her.

"She's tellin the truth Mysty," he rumbled, "Ya know that. She dun't know nuthin."

Mystique's eyes narrowed, scanning the trailer.

"Don't you have a second child?" she asked.

Margali stiffened, and Logan sensed Mystique was on to something.

"You were pregnant last time I saw you," Mystique said, "Azazel said you were hoping it would be another boy."

There was a tense silence. Logan knew Mystique had purposely dropped Azazel's name to get some sort of reaction from Margali. From what little Mystique had told him on the way there he knew Margali had been friends with the father of Mystique's child.

It was why she'd left him with them, something Logan couldn't quite wrap his head around. Then again, he'd stayed with his brother long past the point where any sane person would have. Maybe she'd been trying to make a smart decision when she left Kurt behind.

Again, he couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

"I had a daughter," Margali said tensely.

"And where is she now?" asked Mystique.

Margali made a vague gesture with her hand.

"Somewhere," she said, "She left in the middle of the night."

"I wonder why," Mystique said.

Margali's eyes narrowed.

"If you don't leave in five seconds, I'm screaming," she said, "And people around here come when I scream."

Mystique sneered and then turned on her heel. Logan followed her, not looking back at the broken woman in the trailer behind him. Mystique began the walk back to the car, her lips pressed into a thin line and her head bent.

"I know what you're thinkin," Logan said.

"Oh?" she asked.

"You're thinkin her daughter's the second person in that film," Logan said.

"Of course I am," said Mystique, "Think we can find her?"

"Gonna be tough if she ran away in the middle of the night," Logan said, scratching his chin, "I'll see if some o my SSR contacts can't get a lock on her."

"No," she said, "Don't involve them any more than necessary. They're not going to be much help."

She looked at her watch.

"It's almost time for Bolt to check in," she said, "Pool said he'd have a lock on the location too."

"I don't think we shoulda involved those guys," he muttered.

Mystique gave him a side look.

"This is about blood," he said defensively.

She snorted.

"This is about getting the job done no matter what the cost," she said, "And, let's face it, you and I know more about that than anything else."

Logan heaved a frustrated sigh.

"Then lemme use my SSR guys," he said.

She glared at him and clenched her fists, but nodded tightly.

"Just don't lose sight of why we're doing this," she said.

"Same to you," Logan snapped back.

Mystique laughed.

"Oh Logan," she said, "I never do."


	17. Chapter 17

"Your measurements are veird," Kurt said.

"No, your measurements are weird," Warren insisted, "I mean, I get why you only know metric, but come on!"

Kurt gave him a fang-filled grin, which Warren returned, but less toothy. He'd run into the teen from Germany a few times in the past week or so, and it appeared he'd decided to give classes a go.

Warren was proud of him. He'd obviously overcome whatever issues he'd had with his parents to make the right decision. There had probably been a messy confrontation, but Kurt didn't seem too phased by it.

It was the kind of person Warren had thought of himself as. Or at least, the kind of person he'd like to be.

"Vell, it vill not be mien fault vhen you haf zings from Europe and zey have different measurements," Kurt said.

"I buy American," answered Warren.

"Ja, American Big Macs," Kurt said.

Warren laughed. Kurt had a sense of humor that infected everything around him. It was good to have someone like that around, especially after being kicked off the team. There was so little to laugh about these days.

Kurt turned his attention back to the work book on the floor.

"More or less, I can get zis," he said, "But...not ze history. Still hafing problems."

"Must be tough," Warren said, "I guess they don't teach much American history over in Germany."

Kurt shook his head.

"Nein," he said, "So it ist hard to remember. Even vith Jean's advice."

Warren stiffened.

"Jean?" he asked.

"Mein tutor," Kurt said, oblivious, "She ist helping me vith some of zis."

"Oh," Warren said.

His new friend looked up at him, his keen golden eyes boring into him.

"Zat vas a very strange 'oh,'" Kurt said.

"Really?" asked Warren, "I hadn't noticed."

He hoped Kurt wouldn't pursue it, he'd been pretty good about that the first time around, but a mischievous smile crossed his face. Oh God. He thought he'd cottoned onto something he could tease him about.

"Does someone have a crush?" Kurt asked.

"No!" Warren snapped.

Kurt snickered and shut his workbook.

"Vell, maybe you can ask her about metric system," Kurt said smugly, "She zinks it ist better."

"I don't give a damn what Jean thinks," snapped Warren.

The smile on Kurt's face began to slip.

"I am sorry," he said, "Ist she...vere ze two of you at vone point-?"

"No!" Warren said.

Whatever good mood he'd been building up in the past few minutes was quickly evaporating. Kurt fell silent and looked at his shut workbook.

"So it vas ein bad rejection, ja?" he asked.

Warren ran a hand through his hair. It was time to leave, and it was probably time to stop talking to Kurt so damn much. He supposed it was the kind of reaction he'd have to most of his friends if they answered questions like that, but that didn't mean he wanted to endure it if he didn't have to.

"Back in Germany," Kurt said, "I haf a girlfriend."

His frustration reached a new high.

"Okay, Kurt, I know you're thinking of trying to help, although I'm not sure how that sentence is supposed to," Warren said, "But I am asking you not to."

Kurt cocked his head.

"Vere you in love vith her?"

The question felt like a baseball bat to his face. Warren's jaw dropped.

"What kind of question is that?" he asked.

"An honest one," Kurt shrugged, "Vere you in love vith her?"

"I...I really liked her," said Warren, "I mean, as much as I could've I guess."

He hated the uncertainty in his voice. But what else was he supposed to say when he got a question like that? However, Kurt was looking at him with a quirked eyebrow, as though something Warren had said made him sound like an idiot.

"I'm eighteen Kurt," Warren said, "I'm too young for that kind of thing."

A muscle in Kurt's jaw clenched, as though he'd personally insulted him.

"Ze girl from Germany," Kurt said, "I haf been in love vith her all mein life."

Warren grinned.

"Okay, I know what this is," Warren said, "I mean, I think I know how you're trying to help, but it's really not helping. It's actually making you sound kind of like an asshole."

The insult seemed to roll off of Kurt.

"I am just saying," Kurt said, "You are mourning potential of vhat could haf been razzer zan vhat vas."

Again, Warren felt like someone had slapped him.

"I...what difference does that make?" asked Warren.

"I am saying zat you are spending life vorrying about vhat you could haf done instead of vhat did happen," Kurt said quietly, "Zat ist now vay to live life."

Warren rubbed his temples.

"This is some serious fortune cookie stuff," he said.

"You can't live in ze past," Kurt said, his eyes glued on his workbook, "You cannot take old grievances vith you, cannot take anyzing zat vill not help you. Und zere ist so much zat ist not helpful.

His voice cracked and Warren started. He had the uncomfortable feeling that Kurt wasn't just talking about him anymore.

"I zink it ist better to just try und live vith vhat happened, to accept zat it did," Kurt said, "You cannot...as much as you vish ozzervise, you cannot take zings back. Cannot change vhat you did."

Warren swallowed. Tentatively, he put his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Kurt stood abruptly, his hands clutching his workbook.

"I am fine," he said, "I am just late for next prep class."

Without another word, Kurt teleported. Warren waved the sulphur and black smoke away from his face, still feeling puzzled. Maybe Kurt hadn't been as unaffected as he'd thought about whatever had gone down.

He was still thinking about it when Ororo came in. She looked unhappy, and more than just a little anxious.

"What's up Ro?" Warren asked.

She chewed the bottom of her lip.

"Jean came up and said she wanted a word," Ororo said.

Warren was really starting to hate her name.

"About what?" he asked.

Ororo sat down, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

"She said she felt we all needed to talk about what went down," she said, "As a group."

Warren drew back, aghast.

"She wants to do what?" he asked.

"You heard me," Ororo said, "I'm not a fan of the idea personally but...she said..."

"What?" snapped Warren.

Ororo rolled her eyes. He knew he should tone down his "kill the messenger" attitude, but Kurt's talk had already stretched his nerves thin.

"She doesn't think the Professor's going to give us our uniforms back until we fix things," she said, "I think she might have a point."

A thoughtful silence ensued. Was that really what this was all about? It was just the Professor's idea of an intervention?

"I don't want them to know what I'm feeling," Warren said.

"Yeah, me neither," Ororo said, "But Jubilee was with me, and she begged me to say yes."

"Jubilee needs to pull it together," he mumbled.

"So do we Warren," Ororo said.

He tapped his fingers on the back of the couch. Jean didn't get it, did she? He didn't want Scott to know what he'd thought about what had gone down. Everything he'd felt had been vocalized, either through words or his fists.

 _"Vere you in love vith her?"_

Kurt's words kept rattling around in his head. What did it matter if he felt actual love? He'd cared about Jean very deeply, maybe deeper than anyone he'd ever cared about. It wasn't a question of Romeo and Juliet.

 _"Vere you in love vith her?"_

Warren bit his lip. Maybe, if these were the consequences of it, it should've been.

"We can talk," he sighed, "But it probably won't last long."

"Probably not," Ororo agreed.

* * *

Kurt sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He hadn't meant to tell Warren as much as he had, but it had just come out. For so long he'd tried to forget about what had happened, push it aside in favor of studying for his GED, for his future.

It was a future Stefan would never see, and it was an education Amanda would likely struggle to have. Tears sprang to his eyes. Some part of him whispered that he'd stolen the lives of the two people he cared about most in the world.

He laid on his side in the bed, his hands clenched up by his face. He wished Amanda was there now, wished someone who knew what had happened was with him. He was feeling sick to his stomach, and all he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up.

He'd meant what he said to Warren: there was no changing the past. It was something he'd realized very quickly when he was on the boat. There was no rewind button, no second chances, and no rewinds.

Kurt had made a choice that night, a choice that had seemed like it was a good one, a moral one. However, he knew that it hadn't had the desired outcome. Instead of making things better, saving a life, a life had been lost. One that could have been redeemed.

And now, here he was, having fled the country, living in the lap of luxury. He thought of Amanda. Did she think about these things at night, all alone with no one to talk to? Did she feel as though she were lost and drifting in the world?

He hoped not, but it was likely she was. They were so alike, so if he felt this way, she probably did too. So much had been taken from her, from her mother, from everyone who had ever been kind to Kurt. And he was the one who had taken it away.

And, at that moment, Kurt didn't feel regret. Regret would be pointless. All he felt at that moment was a kind of soul-crushing guilt.

"Forgive me," he whispered.

There was no answer. There was no sign that he was forgiven. He knew God was with him, that he wasn't forsaken. He'd been delivered to safety after all, and that showed that God hadn't truly left him. It was a comfort, but it didn't change why he was there.

When Kurt was younger, he'd read the Old Testament all the way through for the first time. He'd read about an ordinance for the Jewish people, one about designating cities as places of refuge for people who had killed their neighbors by accident.

People who had done so could flee there and be safe from the avenger of the blood until the trial. If the man was found to have acted with intent to kill, he himself would be killed. If it had been done by accident, the man could live out his life in the city of refuge. Kurt didn't think he was able to go home at the end.

Kurt had often wondered how those people felt. After all, it was unlikely they would be able to live a normal life ever again. Even if they could go home, they would most likely be treated differently, talked about behind their backs.

Now Kurt didn't have to wonder any more. He knew exactly what those people felt because he was one of them now. While he'd found a much better place of refuge than he had any right to, there was very little difference between him and those men of old.

With that thought in mind, Kurt bowed his head and wept.


	18. Chapter 18

Chris bent over the computer, his eyes locked on the screen. He wasn't typing, but every now and then a crackle of electricity would leave his hands and thread through the computer.

Logan had always found it a little unnerving.

"Are we done yet?" Wade moaned.

"I'm going as fast as I can," muttered Chris, "You try going through every single airline database in Germany for a single employee that might not have been entered before. Some of these airlines haven't even started keeping digital records. It's not that easy, so I'd appreciate a little silence."

Wade snorted and leaned up against the wall. Mystique was looking anxious too, but she had a different reason. For the past six months or so, it had been impossible to go anywhere without someone tailing them.

It was why they spent so much time split up: they were trying to give the people following them too many leads to follow. Logan supposed it was the reason why she hadn't wanted to enlist the help of her brother, who he heard had some sort of mutant tracking machine.

They could really use one of those right now.

"I think I've found her," Chris said.

The screen flickered. The image of a young woman with violently blonde hair stared back at them. Everything about her seemed violent, as though all of her features had cranked the volume up as far as they could go.

Her eyes were violently blue, her face violently heart-shaped, hands violently slender. It was the kind of look people couldn't replicate, because only nature would do that sort of thing to a person.

"Amanda Szardos," he said, "It said she joined up about a week ago."

"That's the right time frame," Mystique said.

Wade whistled.

"Now that is one sweet looking piece of jailbait," he said.

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She's eighteen," Chris muttered.

"Don't encourage him," Mystique snapped.

"I'm not," said Chris, looking confused.

The cloth around Wade's mouth puckered up in a grin. Christ had never really learned how to handle Wade, what words would or wouldn't set him off.

"Weeeell then," Wade drawled.

Logan, on the other hand, did know.

"Wade, shut the hell up or I'm telling Terry," Logan snapped.

The puckering suddenly stopped.

"That's not fair," he sulked, "You know I don't mean it."

"I'll do it," Logan said.

Wade made a face, the white lenses of his mask staring at Logan. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking when he did that, but Logan'd dealt with Vic's stare for centuries though. Wade might be strange, might be unpredictable, but he was no Vic.

"We should've brought her instead," Mystique said.

Something twitched around Wade's eyes. Logan looked over at Mystique, who seemed puzzled by the reaction. He silently shook his head.

"Terry's got better things ta do than clean up Weapon X's messes," Wade said, his voice sharp, "Now Miss High and Mighty who apparently ditched her son when he was a baby, we found goldilocks. What do we do now?"

Mystique bristled, but Logan made a slashing motion with his hand. He could tell she wanted to say something scathing back, something which would hit him just as hard, which you didn't do. Not with Wade, and not about Terry.

She didn't understand, but then again, why would she? For all of her knowledge of its workings, she was just an outsider to the inner machinations to Weapon X, had just seen the aftermath of the godforsaken program.

She hadn't even been on the mission to rescue Wade. Logan hadn't ever been a fan of the mouthy mercenary, he was barely even a friend, but he'd felt a duty to rescue him. Vic had gotten Wade into that situation, and it only made sense Logan would be the one to get him out of it.

Wraith and Freddy had been too entrenched in their new, boring lives to do much about the situation, although he figured he'd have to come back to Wraith. There was something flickering there beneath the surface.

That same flicker had turned into an inferno for Chris, who'd agreed that being a circus huckster wasn't exactly what he'd wanted out of life. The program had, more or less, ruined his life, and like Logan, he'd realized it had ruined a lot of other peoples' too. The experimental side was rarely voluntary, and it was getting bad.

At least they'd managed to stop the program before it went too far. Without a strong head to lead it, he'd originally heard it was supposed to be someone called 'Stryker,' but apparently he'd kicked it the day Mystique had tried to kill the president. The fact that he'd ordered Logan's river rescue twenty minutes after his estimated time of death seemed to escape most people.

There'd been two of them that night when they went to save Wade, and what they'd see had been truly terrible. When they'd actually tried to talk to him, to pull him out of whatever the hell was going on inside his head, Logan had wondered if the most merciful thing would've been to put him down. He'd almost taken that step, even if he would've hated himself forever for it, never been able to touch Kayla again without thinking about what he'd done.

But they'd managed to get him out of that darkest of places, and had slowly brought him back to himself. He was still screwed up in the head, but he felt like he was less of a threat to the world when they let him go.

Terry was Wade's Kayla, but in a way Logan didn't think he'd ever be able to understand. Wade loved Terry in his own way, but Logan wasn't sure how the two of them would ever be able to have a future together. Not with the way that Wade kept flitting from job to job on the black market.

But he'd been trying, and that was what really made the difference: the urge to try, to be someone else. Logan would like to do that one day and, to him, that future was represented by Kayla and her sister, a family that he could be part of.

He wasn't sure what it was about Terry that pulled Wade in like a magnet. She was an exceptional fighter, even if she ran in much more legit circles than they did. Given her father's early death it seemed incredible her mother had been able to raise her like she had, but, somehow or another, she had.

Either way, suggesting that Terry come on this particular mission, one where they knew they were dealing with a maniac, was not a suggestion Wade was at home to. While Logan figured they could use her presence, if for nothing else than her ability to keep Wade in check, it probably wouldn't end well if Mystique insisted on continuing the argument.

Most of their reasons for being there came down to protecting the people in their lives now, not leading them into danger. They knew enough about who they were going up against to know they were in for a ride.

Wade's reasons were probably wrapped up in Terry, because they all knew what was going to happen a few years down the road. Even Chris, who didn't have a family, understood that. Destroying a problem before it reached its maximum potential was always a desired outcome.

For Logan, the danger was a little more immediate. Not many people knew he'd gone to Canada, and even fewer knew he'd taken up with Kayla. Stashing her and Emma in a cabin in the middle of the wilderness had been the final layer of protection.

However, that wasn't going to last long if things progressed this way. Besides, he'd always been good at cleaning up Vic's messes if the past was any indication. He was going to have to thank his brother for keeping him so busy one of these days.

Mystique, who seemed not to give a damn about her future or the person she was going to be, didn't seem to get that. She was getting snippy because this involved her son, but it didn't seem like the kind of concentrated pain and worry he was going through. He supposed it was the same kind of thing Wade was experiencing on one level or another.

"Hey, I have her next assignment," Chris said, "We're lucky. It looks like the company's making an early start on the transition to digital records."

"What?" asked Logan.

"It's where you store everything on a computer," Chris said impatiently, "Anyway, it looks like she's in New Zealand right now."

"Sonuvabitch," Wade said.

"But she's going to be returning to Germany in three days," Chris said.

"Is it worth it to go and try to intercept her before she gets back?" asked Logan.

"Of course it is," Mystique said.

However, Chris was shaking his head.

"It's unlikely we'll be able to catch her when she makes her touchdown in France, Belgium and Italy," he said, "We'd be chasing her from airport to airport, and some of these stops aren't very long. Even if we did manage to get to her, they're going to notice she's missing almost immediately."

"It's not like we're planning on kidnapping her or anything," Logan said.

"That depends on whether or not she cooperates," said Mystique.

Logan sighed.

"Oh, so now we're kidnapping a teenage girl," Wade said, "This'll be fun. I'll go grab a big white van."

"Who says she won't just talk to us?" suggested Chris, "I mean, if she's worried about Kurt-"

"Then she's unlikely to spill her guts to the first group of strangers she comes across," Mystique said, "I can try to be subtle about it, or at least not overly-violent, but the fact of the matter is I don't think she's going to come willingly."

"What makes you think that?" asked Chris.

Mystique gave him a level look.

"She helped him escape a mob by acting as a decoy," she said, "And I believe that a great deal of good lying followed afterwards, because otherwise she'd be in jail right now. If she didn't crack then, then I don't think she'd do so now."

"But...even if we do manage to grab her, she might not talk," Chris said, "Doesn't sound like she scares easy."

"She probably doesn't," Mystique said.

Logan's stomach churned.

"We're not using torture," he said.

Mystique gave him a sickly smile.

"Maybe not," she said, "But the alternative is to bring her up to Canada and have your girlfriend's sister read her mind, unless you've developed a secondary mutation."

There was a brief pause. Perhaps, Logan realized, Mystique didn't know how to talk to any of them.

"You do that," Logan said, "And I swear to God I will stroll down your brother's driveway."

She flushed.

"We're not torturing her if she doesn't talk," he said, "We'll just go to your damn brother."

"And have this all come crashing down on a school?" demanded Mystique.

"We might not have a choice!" Logan snarled.

"Children!" said Wade, "Can we pleeeeaaase pay attention in class?"

Mystique glared at them, and then folded her arms across her chest.

"Fine," she said, "But don't you ever threaten my family again."

Logan's eyes narrowed.

"Same here," he said.


	19. Chapter 19

There was only one real word Charles could use to describe his feelings towards his nephew at the moment: dismay. He'd hoped Kurt's interest in classes, whether or not Kurt chose to acknowledge this, was an indicator he was staying for a while. While the preparation had been difficult for Kurt, he'd also risen to the challenge, with some help from Charles and Jean.

So for him to lock himself in his room for nearly an entire day was not something Charles was prepared for. It did, of course, happens sometimes with new students, especially ones who had experienced traumatic events. That much was understandable.

But Kurt had seemed like he was doing fine. He'd gone to classes, chattered away with Charles for days on end about everything and nothing, even being eager to explore the new world around him, as long as Charles was his guide.

The again, Charles ruefully remembered how he'd be fine for weeks on end after Cuba, and then he'd sink into a state of depression so damming that he'd struggled to get out of bed in the morning. It was during one of these he'd sent Moira away, a cruel wrong he winced at every time he thought of it.

He had no desire to see any of his students, much less his nephew, undergo this kind of pain. So, as he'd done so often these days, he left his office and used the elevator to travel upstairs. Charles knocked on Kurt's door, like he had periodically that morning, and waited.

There was no answer from within, not even the shuffling Charles was used to. For a brief, terrible moment, he imagined Kurt had hurt himself. He pushed the thought away. His nephew was far too religious to do so.

However, the fear had been planted and the worry began to nag at him. He breathed in deeply and exhaled through his nose. Charles didn't like what he was about to do, but he didn't really see how he had any other choice.

"Kurt?" he said, "If you don't come to the door, I will enter your mind and make you open it."

There was no response.

"You have until the count of ten," Charles said.

Still no response.

"One...two...three," Charles said.

He could feel one of his hands clenching the armrest of his wheelchair. Surely Kurt wouldn't call his bluff.

"Four...five..." Charles said.

Nothing.

"Six...seven...eight..." said Charles.

Inwardly he sighed and put his fingers to his temples.

"Nine-"

The door opened and Kurt stood before him, looking terrible. Charles took in his haunted expression, the stiffness and tenderness around the eyes that indicated tears. Everything about him was slumped, and he was wearing the same thing Charles had seen him wearing the day before.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly.

"Vhy are you even asking?" Kurt asked.

His voice was more tired than bitter, which wasn't hard to believe. He looked exhausted.

"Because you opened the door," Charles said.

Kurt sighed and moved aside. Charles wheeled himself in and Kurt closed the door.

"Now," he said, "what's troubling you?"

"Nozzing," Kurt mumbled.

Charles folded his hands in his lap.

"I don't have to be a mindreader to know that you're lying to me," he said.

A strangled noise came from Kurt's throat. He flopped down on his bed, his eyes staring at the ceiling. Charles had expected him to speak, to tell him something, but Kurt just kept staring at the ceiling, lost in his own world.

"If you don't tell me anything, then I can't help," Charles said.

Kurt let out a small breath. Slowly, he brought his hands up so they could rest on his chest.

"Vas she like me?"

His nephew's voice was almost plaintive.

"Who?" Charles said.

He already knew the answer, and he dreaded it.

"Mein mother," he said, "Vas she like me? Not appearance but...do I...do I remind you of her?"

Charles looked down at his hands. It would be so easy to lie, tell him that Kurt's light and warmth reminded him of his sister. He could say he reminded him of his sister every day, that his behavior was what had made it so easy to believe that he was indeed Raven's son.

He wanted to do it, more than anything. He wanted to lie to Kurt, just like he'd been lying since he arrived. True, he hadn't outright told him lies about Raven, but he'd lied by omission. Kurt had more of a right to information about his mother's life than Charles did.

Even though he was still deciding, he could feel his stomach churning wildly with emotions.

"Uncle?" Kurt asked.

He turned his head just as Charles looked up. Dead golden eyes stared at him.

"No," said Charles, "You're not like your mother."

Kurt looked away, his eyes staring back at the ceiling. Charles hesitated, and then wheeled up to him. He put his hand on Kurt's, and was surprised to see that Kurt didn't even twitch in response to him.

That was not good, and he wasn't sure if what he was about to say would make things better or worse. However, something about Kurt's expression had told Charles that he didn't want a pretty lie, no matter how terrible the truth was.

"And I thank God for that."

His nephew stiffened. Charles continued speaking, the words spilling out.

"Kurt, you must understand something about your mother," he said, "I loved her very deeply, but she often let her emotions get control of her. So many of her decisions were made in anger or bitterness. I've done the same thing but...Raven...she always had so little control when it came to things like that."

The sudden urge to be anywhere else came over him. However, he knew there was no escape from this.

"And..." he said.

He gritted his teeth. He'd spent so many years convincing himself it wasn't Raven's fault that she'd left him. After all, hadn't she herself made comments about his inability to give her what she needed?

But Charles had had time since then. He knew better than to think he'd been the only one responsible for what had gone wrong now.

"When your mother left, we'd been drifting away for a long time," he said quietly, "I just never saw it, and that's what, to her, exasperated the rift."

He hesitated. How to tell him this without revealing the X-men?

"I mixed with some shady characters in my youth," Charles said, deciding on a half truth, "I had a friend, a mutant, who believed mutants and humanity were hurtling toward a war. We had so many arguments on the subject, and I had high hopes of bringing him around to my way of thinking."

"Did you?" Kurt asked.

His voice was flat and leaden.

"No," Charles said quietly, "I didn't. Instead, his way of thinking appealed to Raven. She didn't tell me, and I was too caught up in my own life to ask what she was feeling."

Something inside him begged him to grasp Kurt's hand tighter for strength. However, he didn't, because Kurt needed him to be strong.

"It all came to a head one day," he said, "I tried to stop my friend from doing something that would hurt a lot of people. I succeeded, with some help, but the ensuing fight damaged my spine."

Kurt lifted his head fractionally, and Charles knew he was taking in his wheelchair.

"And I was lying there, and he asked Raven to come with him," Charles said, "I...I didn't want to hold her back..."

"So you let her leave?"

There was a note of incredulity in his voice, and Charles was, inexplicably, glad for it. It meant Kurt was invested, that he was digesting what Charles was telling him.

"Yes," Charles said, 'I didn't stop her, not when I knew she was trying to make her own decisions. I was most likely a fool for doing so but, well-"

"She chose to leave you," said Kurt, sounding shocked, "You were injured."

"I told her to make the decision she felt was right for her," Charles said.

He couldn't remove the sadness from his voice when he spoke. Kurt pushed himself up, his hand sliding in just such a way that Charles was still touching it.

"She did terrible things, didn't she?" asked Kurt.

"Yes," Charles admitted.

He swallowed.

"The man...the man she went with...his name was Erik Lensherr," Charles said.

Kurt looked at him, slightly puzzled. Yes, he had to remember Kurt had lived his life in Germany. It wasn't impossible for him to know about a terrorist the FBI didn't have enough sense to put at the top of its "Most Wanted" list, but it was unlikely.

"He's a terrorist," Charles said.

It was a simplified version of the truth, but it would do. Kurt began worrying his lip with his fangs.

"And she...?"

"She went down the same path," Charles said, "But, a few years ago, all of my intelligence on her dried up. I hope she's quit, that she's trying to find peace somewhere."

A strange expression came over his face.

"Zis Erik," he said, "Vas he my, my-?"

"No," Charles said quickly.

While he didn't know for sure, it might be too much for Kurt to deal with that and his mother's occupation all in one night. Besides, Charles believed another member of the Brotherhood had fathered him. He wasn't sure if that would be much of a comfort though.

He needed to get back in control of the situation.

"I'm not telling you this to hurt you," he said, "I'm telling you this because, despite all of this, if your mother walked through the door this minute, I would welcome her back with open arms."

Golden eyes met his, a strange copy of eyes he'd once seen almost every day.

"Because I love her and, if she wants to change, I can help," he said, "But she's stubborn, and I don't know how she sees the things she did. I'm not sure that, if she killed someone, she would be upset about it afterwards."

Kurt was stiffening again, but, for better or for worse, it was time to lay all his cards on the table.

"And that's why I said I'm happy you're not like her," Charles said, "Because you're warm and innocent, because you see the world as though it's something beautiful and special."

Kurt's fangs drew blood from his lips.

"And when you killed someone, it tore you up inside," Charles said.

His nephew looked at him in shock and fear. This time Charles did squeeze Kurt's hand, and he hoped he wouldn't run away.

"Whatever you did, I know you did it for a reason," Charles said, "I can see it in your eyes."

"How did...how did you...?" asked Kurt.

"There are few crimes that force people to leave the country," said Charles, "And the way you talked about it...it just seemed to fit."

That and the harrowing look that took over Kurt's eyes when he thought Charles wasn't looking. He'd recognized it from when Alex had just come back from Vietnam, someone who was too young to be dealing with what he'd seen.

"Know that I will never force you to tell me what happened," Charles said, "But you should also know that, no matter what happens, I will always be here for you."

Kurt looked at him and, for a split second, Charles thought he would teleport away. Instead, he collapsed, putting his arms around Charles's shoulders. Kurt started shaking, and Charles realized he was crying.

He held him tightly.

"I'll always be here," he repeated.


	20. Chapter 20

The silence in the room was absolutely deafening. Well, it would be if Jubilee didn't shift every couple of minutes, her large shoes making a faint squeaking noise on the floor. Warren debated just taking off her shoes and then leaving the room with them.

It wasn't as though anything else was going on. He knew they were supposed to be talking out their feelings, or whatever it was that Jean had gotten into her head to do. However, they were all just staring at each other.

Warren scratched the back of his neck absently. His mind wandered to Kurt. He hadn't seen him around for a while, and he wondered if this was because of their conversation. If it was, then he felt bad about that. Kurt hadn't done a good job, but he had honestly been trying to help.

Not to mention whatever advice he'd given had clearly distressed him. At least that was something he might have a shot in hell of fixing. The situation in front of him was beyond him though.

"I'll go first," Jean said.

He cocked his head. Jean was looking at him, and Warren saw Scott's head turn slightly toward her. Was he worried, or protective? Warren wasn't sure which. It didn't matter though: either outcome pissed him off.

"Warren, you are one of my best friends," she said.

The words caught him off guard, but not for long. Jean had told him she thought of him as a friend when he'd tried to ask her out. However, she'd never identified him as a best friend before.

"Everyone in this room is," Jean said, "I mean, I know I have other friends outside the X-men, but you all? You all understand me in ways no one else ever will, and we all share a secret no one else has."

She bit her lip.

"And, while we have our differences, I used to know that I could go to you all for anything," she said, "And I miss that. I miss all the stupid things we used to do together, just what we were together."

Her voice was soft and sad. Warren rubbed his temples.

"Okay, Jean?" he asked, "I get that, and I appreciate you being my friend and all. But that's not what this is about."

"But it is."

He turned his head. Jubilee was looking at him earnestly, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I...I know a lot happened between you all," she said, "And I know that it hurt, and a lot of it could've been avoided if we were all a little more honest and...really, well, I know a lot of stuff happened that shouldn't have."

That was an understatement.

"But do you all remember what it was like before?" Jubilee said, "We were a family. You all..."

Her voice dwindled.

"You were my only family," she said.

"Jubilee, you're laying it on a little thick, dontcha think?" murmured Ororo.

Sparks danced around Jubilee's eyes. Warren blinked in surprise. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Jubilee mad, and he'd never seen that anger activate her powers before. They'd have to be careful: he'd seen her melt a video player once by accident.

"No," she said harshly, "Look, I know you grew up on the streets and shit, but I grew up being bounced from foster home to foster home. There was actually one couple that was thinking of adopting me. They tried it for a year and figured out I wasn't worth the trouble."

She scuffed the ground angrily with her squeaky shoes.

"This was the first home I ever had," she said, "And you were my first real family."

"And you think it wasn't for me?" asked Ororo, "At least you grew up with people who didn't threaten you with a beating if you didn't bring back enough money."

"So you should appreciate what we have!" Jubilee said.

"You can't have a family when you don't have trust," snapped Ororo.

"Why don't you trust us?" asked Jean.

Ororo crossed her arms sullenly.

"You lied, and you kept secrets," she said, "You knew what you were doing was going to cause trouble, but instead of actually treating us all like adults, you decided to go around like it was some sort of game."

"And you're not doing the same thing?" asked Jubilee, "Look, this isn't like Candyland when you have someone who makes it to the end and gets all the sugar, okay? This is like someone stealing the pieces and running off."

"You're being dramatic again," Ororo said.

"Am I?" asked Jubilee.

She gestured with her hands.

"Is anyone happy right now?" she asked, "Really and truly happy?"

No one said anything.

"See?" she asked, "Just think of everything we've lost. This was the most important thing in my life before you all decided to wreck it all. And for what?"

Her eyes flicked between Jean and Warren.

"We can't always have everything we want," she said.

Warren narrowed his eyes.

"Is that what you think this is about?" he asked.

"That's what it looks like!" Jubilee said, "I mean, I didn't want to say anything, because I know it hurts when the people you care about don't care about you back-"

Her voice caught, and the sparks disappeared from her eyes.

"But, I mean, wasn't what we had more important than that?" she asked.

Warren wanted to snarl at Jubilee, but that would be the equivalent to kicking a puppy. It was better just to tell her.

"That's not what this is about," he said.

"Then what is it about?" Scott said.

Warren looked at him and gritted his teeth.

"Because, when you first started yelling at me," Scott said, "You told me it was about me asking out someone I knew you liked. That's what you said."

"Okay, it was a part of it," said Warren, "You knew I'd be upset. You shouldn't have asked."

"I'm right here," Jean said irritably.

He let out a frustrated sigh. This was going great.

"You said you were going to ask her out earlier that week," Scott said, "When she said you weren't together I thought-"

"I lost my nerve," muttered Warren, "So I didn't ask. That doesn't mean you can just...how did you think that would make me feel?"

"What do you mean?" asked Scott.

He still sounded puzzled, and Warren ground his teeth so tightly together that he knew he'd have a headache later.

"Every single time," he said, "Everything I've wanted, everything I've ever been good at, you've always been better, you've always reached first."

Scott gave him an incredulous look.

"Warren, I didn't ask her out to one-up you," he said, "I asked her out because I was in love with her."

The words sounded like a sledgehammer, and Ororo's mouth opened. Jubilee's eyes widened, but Jean didn't do any of those things. Instead, her hand moved slightly so it brushed up against Scott's.

She'd known. Maybe he'd told her, or maybe she'd just always known. Warren didn't think it mattered. Scott's face and voice were full of conviction. Even if he only thought he was in love, he definitely believed it enough to speak with conviction about it.

And that was something Warren knew he couldn't have done.

 _"Vere you in love vith her?"_

Warren suddenly felt sick.

* * *

Scott felt Jean's hand against his, giving him support. This wasn't easy for him to talk about, but he had to do something. Jubilee's defiance of both sides had made him think that, maybe, there was a way out of this somewhere.

"Warren, it killed me when you told me you didn't think I was your friend anymore," he said.

"Not enough," Warren said.

His voice lacked conviction, but the phrase still stung. Scott swallowed.

"What did you want me to do?" he asked, "Break-up with Jean? Choose a friendship that came with conditions over what I felt?"

Warren looked away.

"It's not actually friendship if it comes with conditions," Scott said.

"Did you get that from a fortune cookie?" asked Ororo.

"I got it from Alex," Scott said.

"Figures," Warren muttered.

Scott felt like throwing his hands up in the air.

"Warren, I never wanted things to get like this," Scott said, "I never wanted all of this shit to go down. But it did."

"You're not sorry," Warren muttered.

"Yes I am," said Scott.

"Are you sorry you're with Jean?" he asked.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Scott said.

His voice came out harsh, but he didn't think there was anything he could do about that now.

"If I could do it all over again, I would do things a little more delicately," he said, "I'd have told you sooner. But I don't think that would have changed the final outcome. The only thing it could have done was preserve our friendship, and I wanted that to happen."

Warren shook his head.

"You didn't try very hard," he said.

"Neither did you," Scott shot back.

His former friend looked up at him, and Scott saw pain in his eyes.

"Scott...I can't...I've tried so long to be someone, and it's always been so easy for you," he said.

"Easy?" asked Scott, confused, "What's been easy?"

"To be someone!" Warren burst out, "Someone people can rely on, someone people can trust-"

"And every single night I stay up for at least an hour worrying what'll happen if I betray that trust, if I can't live up to it!" Scott said, "Sometimes it feels like an itch at the back of my head, a pain threatening to take over. I worry for thirty minutes if I've actually locked up the Danger Room even though I remember doing it. It feels like pinpricks over my skin!"

Warren gaped. Ororo and Jubilee were staring at him too, but he really couldn't lose focus right now. These were worries he'd only expressed to Alex, Jean, and the Professor. They weren't things you could talk about.

"You never said anything," Warren said.

"I wanted to be worthy of the trust you were giving me," Scott said, "Your lives were in my hands, and the more I worried, the more I felt like I was letting you all down. Saying all of that would've made me look-"

"Human," Warren finished.

Scott paused, Warren's phrase worming its way into his head.

"Is that what you thought of me?" he asked.

"Yes," Warren said, "And...I think I was wrong."

The two stared at each other for a while.

"We can't go back to the way things were," he said, "I nearly punched your goddamn lights out."

"I actually did black out for a second there," Scott admitted, "I figured it'd be a good idea not to tell the Professor and my brother that."

Warren cracked a grin, but it seemed fragile. Scott held out his hand.

"Look, it might not be the way it was," he said, "But we can at least try to work toward that goal. All of us can."

His hand waivered.

"Do you want to try?" he asked.

There was a tense moment, and then Warren took Scott's hand. With that gesture, Scott felt like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders, like he could fly just as well as Warren if he wanted to. Warren looked at Ororo, who nodded. Jubilee exhaled and Scott felt Jean's hand brush against his again.

"Let's give it a go," Warren said," All of us."

"All of us," Scott agreed.


	21. Chapter 21

Amanda absolutely hated her job. She hated everything about it. She didn't think she'd hate it quite as much as she did when she'd first signed up for it, but the long hours, sleepless nights, and idiotic passengers were starting to get to her.

In her opinion, people had no damn clue what went into being an airline stewardess, just how stressful a job it was. She didn't blame them. She hadn't known. All she'd seen was the free airfare, the lure of being able to leave home.

Now she was starting to regret it. She had a layover for a day or two, and she was itching to get out of her heels. Amanda honestly had no idea how the other women managed it when they encountered turbulence. Her acrobatic abilities were the only thing that saved her from the worst jostles.

She sighed and undid the bun holding up her golden hair. It tumbled down her back as she walked. As soon as she got back to the hotel she was passing out. Amanda could barely even remember which city she was in.

The only thing that kept her going was her paycheck. Every penny she earned was a penny she could use to get back to Kurt, to figure things out. She would be able to talk to him, to be able to actually let some of the thoughts that plagued her out.

She was lost in her musings when someone tapped her shoulder. Amanda turned and saw a man in a dark suit with glasses. Amanda immediately felt her stomach begin to churn.

"Ms. Szardos?" he asked.

Amanda gave him a confused look.

"Sorry, you must have me confused with someone else," she said.

She turned to leave, wondering how fast she could walk away in heels, when he grabbed her arm.

"No," the man said calmly, "We don't."

"Let go or I'll scream," Amanda said.

Three other men detached themselves from the crowd and started walking toward them. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape, but she didn't see any. Amanda felt like she was going to be sick.

"That won't do you any good," the man said, "Now, there's someone who wants to talk to you about an incident that happened a month or so ago."

Her throat seized up. Kurt. They were after Kurt. She chewed her tongue, looking for inspiration. They knew who she was, where she worked. It looked like she was going to be quitting her job a lot sooner than she thought she was going to.

If, of course, she was able to get away. Amanda couldn't see any clear way out, so she sagged and hung her head. There was absolutely no doubt what she had to do next, the only thing she could do if she wanted things to work out.

"It all happened so fast," she whimpered.

"Not here miss," the man said smoothly, "Let's walk."

She nodded, hunching in on herself, trying to look small and helpless. The man's grip on her arm weakened. Amanda gave a longing look back at the gate.

"Am I going to be here for work tomorrow?" she murmured.

"That's the least of your worries sweetheart," one of the men said.

Amanda bowed her head and sniffled. The man's grip on her arm weakened even more. The men were walking loosely around her, which told her that they weren't police. She'd never seen special forces or intelligence agencies, but she figured they would be more on their game than the police, not less. So they weren't them either.

Maybe it didn't matter, because there were a few openings now that they thought they had her. She bit her lip and stifled a whimper, and she saw one of the men roll their eyes. The man's grip on her arm weakened just enough.

Amanda jerked her arm away and slammed her elbow into his throat. He made a strange, choking noise, but Amanda didn't stand around and wait to find out if she'd done any permanent damage.

Letting go of her suitcase, she darted quickly between two of the men and started running. She would miss the suitcase, it had some things in it she couldn't replace, but she wasn't so sentimental to think it was worth her life.

As she ran, she kicked off her heels, tossing them behind her and weaving in and out of surprised commuters. The pavement was hard, dirty, and there was probably glass everywhere, but she wasn't going to risk breaking an ankle.

The men were shouting now, and she kept running. The element of surprise had given her a few seconds head start, and she needed to make the most of them. She pushed down a luggage stack as she ran, and made sure to weave in and out as many times as possible. Anything that would give her a little more time.

As she ran, her mind did a quick tally of what she had. She had the equivalent of thirty American dollars in her pocket for emergencies, and one credit card. Margali had always hated banks, so Amanda had opened a bank account to spite her when she left home.

So she might figure out a way to get passage to America. There was a plan somewhere that she could take advantage of, but first she had to get the weirdos off her tail. Better yet, she could trap one of them and rob them. That way, she might be able to get the money she needed and find out who these idiots were.

However, she didn't want to get ahead of herself. She wasn't in the clear yet, and she stuck out like a sore thumb in her stewardess uniform. As soon as she lost them she was going to need to ditch it.

Amanda ran into an alley, knowing that there was a fence at the other end of it. She scrambled onto some trash cans and climbed up on them, her skirt ripping a bit in the back when she did so. It wasn't too much, but it was enough to give her the extra mobility she needed. When she had enough height she jumped for the top of the fence, vaulting herself over it.

She landed in someone's backyard, but she was lucky and they weren't home. Amanda started running to the wall and climbed up it, getting onto the roof. There were fenced houses all around her, and she couldn't get off the roof without landing in someone else's backyard. If someone was home, then she might have a problem.

So she jumped onto the next roof over. Her feet hit something sharp and she bit her lip. It wasn't enough to cut open her foot, but she'd have to be more careful. All she had to protect her feet at the moment were stockings, and those weren't enough.

Amanda was much more cautious when she made the next jump. She shimmied down the side of the house, using the windows and the drainpipe for leverage. Whens he dropped to the ground she was sweating and tired, and her heart was pounding a million miles an hour.

There was a screech of tires and Amanda saw a car swerve around the corner. She looked at in dismay. Amanda knew she was a good acrobat, and very fast, but she wasn't fast enough to outrun a car.

She glanced at the house next to her, wondering how fast she could climb onto it. However, there was a screeching sound and she turned and the car swerved away from her, crashing into the opposite wall.

A katana was embedded in the windshield, and Amanda could see it had skewered the occupant. She gaped for a second, and then quickly began climbing up onto the roof. Whoever had thrown that was not someone she wanted to be around.

As Amanda climbed, she heard some sort of commotion going on below her. There were guns going off and she forced herself to keep going, to not think about what was going on beneath her or anything that would happen because of it.

When she got to the roof one of her fingernails was broken and the finger was bleeding. Feeling woozy, she pulled herself up and started to get to her feet.

"Hold on there kid."

Amanda whipped her head up. A man was staring at her with a frank expression, his face covered in stubble. There was an aura of cigar smoke around him, and Amanda couldn't see any weapons.

However, that didn't mean he couldn't hurt her. He was also addressing her in English, which she knew enough to speak, but it meant he probably wasn't a resident. She toed the edge of the building, wondering if she could make it to the fence below her.

"I wouldn't go down there if I were you," he suggested, "Pool's never gone in for delicate work and, considerin who those guys are, I wasn't gonna interfere."

"Who are you?" Amanda asked.

"Logan," he said, "James Logan."

"Never heard of you," she said.

He shrugged.

"You woudln'tve," he said, "But I think you should hear me out."

"Why?" Amanda said, "As far as I can tell, I just got dragged into a war between two rival gangs."

"Rival gangs?" asked Logan, crinkling his forehead.

"You use katanas and you all dress weird," Amanda said derisively, "There's not much else you could be."

Logan chuckled.

"Good guess, but no," he said.

"Right," Amanda said.

She leapt for the fence, but she felt an arm grab hers in mid air. Logan pulled Amanda away from the edge, both of his hands gripping her arms tightly.

"Kid, I told ya not to," he growled.

"You've given me no reason not to," she said.

Amanda tried to wriggle out of his grip, but she couldn't. The gunfire below had stopped, which meant he was going to get back-up in a moment. Great.

"Ya need ta listen ta me," he said, "I'm not your enemy."

"Then let me go," Amanda snapped, "I need to get out of here!"

"And go ta Kurt, right?" he asked.

She stopped struggling, feeling like screaming. Were they both after him? Amanda didn't think they were the type of people who would settle things in court with lawyers where Kurt might have a prayer of someone understanding what had really happened.

No. These were the same type of people like the ones in the mob. It was the only reason why they'd tracked her down like this.

"Don't look so concerned," Logan began, "We're-"

She didn't stick around to listen. He might have secured her arms, but her feet were still free, and she had a powerful kick. Amanda put a lifetime of training into the kick she aimed at his groin, and he grunted in pain.

He released her arms and she jumped for the fence again. Amanda caught it on the way down, aggravating the hand where she'd broken a nail. It hurt, but she had enough time to shimmy down the ground.

Her feet felt like they were on fire now, but she started running again. Someone else grabbed her, and a cloth slammed down on her face. Instinctively Amanda lashed out at whoever was behind her, and she made contact with flesh.

There was a muffled groan, but her assailant didn't let go. Her vision started to go blurry, and Amanda began to panic. She continued to lash out, but there was no give in this person's grip, only a strange determination.

Amanda slid down to the ground, her vision going black.


	22. Chapter 22

"You shouldn'tve drugged her," Logan said.

Mystique glared at him.

"Did you have any better ideas?" she snapped, "She was getting away, no thanks to you I might add."

"Getting away and gone are two different things," Logan said.

Mystique crossed her arms and leaned away from Logan. Amanda had been propped up on a cot in their temporary hideout. Logan had insisted on placing her so she didn't wake up with an ache in her neck.

He could be so considerate when the person involved wasn't her.

"Logan, I didn't really see any other option," she said.

"She's not gonna trust us when she wakes up," Logan said.

"Specially if the first thing she sees is three guys with a shit ton of weapons!" Wade said cheerfully.

"Can it!" Logan snarled.

Wade held up his hands appeasingly and then wandered off. Mystique wondered if it was too late to drop Wade from the mission. She'd meant it when she said she wished she'd invited Terry instead. The girl might've been a carbon copy of her father, who'd remain forever a teenager with gawky limbs he'd never grown into, but she could fight and she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

It was a skill Wade would never learn, or Logan for that matter, judging by the way he was looking at her.

"She didn't trust us anyway," said Mystique.

"And this was a great way ta build confidence," Logan said, "We don't have a telepath: she needs ta talk of her own free will. And, again, that's not gonna happen, because now she thinks we're tryin ta hurt Kurt."

Kurt. Every time the name was spoken, tiny chills raced up and down Mystique's arms. She couldn't help but remember the small bundle, cooing and cuddling up against her for warmth and comfort.

The minute she'd placed him on the doorstep he'd started screaming.

"I'll just have to convince her otherwise," Mystique said.

"Oh?" snorted Logan, "How're ya gonna do that?"

"I'll figure it out," said Mystique.

Logan shook his head. She gave him a side look.

"If you'd just brought Kayla like I'd asked, we wouldn't have this problem," she said.

He gave her an even look.

"What is it with you and tryin ta bring people we care about inta this mess?" he snapped, "First Kayla, then Terry. Who're ya gonna ask Chris ta drag in."

"No one," Mystique said, "It just so happens the two of you became romantically involved with women with unique skill sets."

Logan shook his head again, this time in apparent disgust.

"Just cause someone ya cared about got dragged inta this doesn't mean ya get ta make ta same thing happen ta all o us," he said.

Sometimes Mystique wondered if Logan had been dropped when he was a baby. She walked up to him slowly and, when she spoke, each word was ice.

"You're right, this is my fault," Mystique said, "This is my mess, and that's why I came to you in the middle of the night, begging you for help. It's why I asked you to suggest others who might be useful and...oh...no...wait a minute..."

Logan tensed as her eyes narrowed.

"That was you," she said.

"Ya son was never supposed ta get dragged into it," he said.

"No, he wasn't," Mystique said, "But, thanks to you falsifying those damn records, he did. And now he's a target, whereas before, no one would've cared about him. So don't you dare complain about my methods when you're the one who dragged my family into this mess."

A look of anger flashed across his face, but he didn't say anything. She was right, and he knew it. Good. That would make what came next easy.

"So, when Amanda wakes up, I will talk to her," Mystique said, "I will be the one who asks her where Kurt is. I will handle her. And, if need be, we will go to Canada, and I will ask Kayla to convince her to speak."

Logan opened his mouth in protest, but Mystique made a slashing motion with her hand.

"No," she said, "You owe me Logan. You owe me a lot. The least you can do is have your family take the same risk you forced mine to take. And if we're too late, if one damned hair on his head is harmed, I'll spend the rest of my life figuring out a way to kill you."

He looked at her in silence for a moment longer. When he spoke, his voice had the same amount of warmth and speed as a glacier.

"You'll have to get in line," he said.

"I know," Mystique said, "Now get the hell out."

With one last, furious look, Logan turned on his heel and left the room. Mystique watched him go, but she didn't feel any sort of satisfaction from his departure. In the past she would've relished a victory over someone as strong-willed as Logan, but too much was at stake.

She walked over to Amanda and sat down. Mystique debated for a moment, wondering just what she should do, what she could do to make the girl on the bed trust her. The answer was shockingly obvious, and she wondered why Logan hadn't suggested it. Then again, Logan, being Logan, often let his anger blind him.

Mystique sighed deeply before letting her pretty, blonde form melt away. When she looked down at her hands, blue, spiked skin met her now-golden eyes. When Amanda woke up, she would know exactly who she was looking at.

Whether that would be helpful or not remained to be seen.

* * *

Amanda's head felt like it had been smashed into a wall. It might've been, considering what had happened right before she blacked out. In books people often had a moment of fuzzy confusion where, for a blissful moment, they had no idea what had happened.

She wasn't quite so lucky. Amanda had a pretty good idea of what she was going to wake up to, although she didn't feel any restraints on her wrists. That wasn't bad and, her eyes still closed, she took a moment to do a physical inventory. Her feet hurt but, other than that, she seemed to be in one piece.

"I know you're awake though," someone said, "There's no point in pretending you're not."

Irritably, Amanda opened her eyes. She wanted to tell whoever was talking to shut the hell up, but then she caught sight of them. Familiar golden eyes stared back at her, but they weren't the golden eyes that she'd loved and traced with her fingertips.

Her lips curled into a sneer, made all the worse because her expression of disgust was simply met with a cocked head.

"You," she said.

"Me," Kurt's mother replied.

Amanda pushed herself up and eyed the door.

"You could try for it," Kurt's mother said, "But I can reasonably say I'd beat you there. You're a fierce fighter, I'll give you that after what I saw today, but, and I say this in all modesty, I will wipe the floor with you."

She pursed her lips.

"So, that big hairy guy," she said, "He was with you?"

"He's an old friend," Kurt's mother replied.

There was a slight snort in the way she said "friend," but Amanda decided to let that pass for the moment.

"Did you hire him to kidnap me?" Amanda demanded.

"Hardly," said Kurt's mother, "He asked me for help in a certain matter, which, unfortunately, means I have to find my son."

Amanda laughed.

"Yeah," she said, "It's pretty inconvenient when you have to find someone you ditched with someone else yeas ago."

Kurt's mother let out a harsh breath, and Amanda thought she could see her clench her jaw. She was uncomfortable, perhaps a little angry. Good. Amanda didn't have anything good to say to the kind of woman who would leave her child on someone else's doorstep.

"I don't expect you to believe me," Kurt's mother said, "But I do care about what happens to Kurt."

"You're right," Amanda said, "I don't believe you."

"But," Kurt's mother continued, seemingly oblivious, "people are trying to kill Kurt. You've met some of them."

Amanda thought back to the men she encountered at the airport.

"They won't find him," she said.

"Don't be so sure," Kurt's mother said, "The head of their little outfit has some friends in very high places, and he's acquired rather a large amount of money. That's not a combination I'd want to go up against."

Amanda thought back to Kurt, to where he was supposed to be in New York.

"Now," Kurt's mother said, "I know you helped Kurt escape the authorities in Berlin."

"Does that concern you?" asked Amanda.

"Personally, no," Kurt's mother said, "My hands aren't to clean either."

Amanda sneered at her.

"Don't you dare compare yourself to Kurt," she said.

"What made him different?" Kurt's mother asked.

"You're the last person I'm going to discuss him with," Amanda snapped.

Kurt's mother sighed.

"I'm simply saying, I think you know where he is," she said, "And his life depends on you telling me right now."

"It's none of your business," Amanda said.

Kurt's mother looked at her a moment longer.

"Have you ever hated someone Amanda?" Kurt's mother asked.

The question took Amanda by surprise.

"What?" she asked.

"Hated someone," Kurt's mother said, "And I'm not talking about being angry at someone for a long period of time. See, I know you and your mother don't get along."

Amanda let out a harsh breath from between her teeth.

"I mistakenly went to her, thinking she might have information," Kurt's mother said, "Silly really. Rather bitter, isn't she?"

Although Amanda wanted to agree, she didn't respond. The less she said to this woman, the better.

"But no, I'm not talking about that kind of anger. I'm talking about the kind of anger that comes from your very bones, is bred in your marrow. I'm talking about the kind of hatred that moves planets and starts wars, the kind that results in unspeakable atrocities committed to people. Have you ever hated someone like that?"

Slowly, Amanda shook her head.

"Good for you," Kurt's mother said.

She leaned in. Instinctively, Amanda leaned away.

"The man who's coming after Kurt hates him just as much as I've described," Kurt's mother said.

"Kurt's never hurt anyone," Amanda said.

Kurt's mother raised her eyebrows and tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"No," she said, "I suppose not. But he could have spent his entire life as a vegetable in a hospital room, and this man would still hate him just as much as he does now. If he catches Kurt, he'll kill him, and he'll probably do it slowly. And he will catch Kurt if we don't do something. It's not the kind of hatred that lets you sleep at night unless you catch the person you hate."

Amanda looked at her, aghast. Once again, her mind went to Kurt, all alone up in Westchester. Well, maybe he was there. Amanda wasn't sure what kind of reception he'd received from his mysterious uncle.

But whether or not he was there, he didn't know someone was coming after him. The urge to protect the last person on earth she cared about, and who cared about her, came upon her so strongly that she felt pains shooting up and down her legs.

However, she was cautious, and she knew she had a right to be so.

"Tell me everything you know," Amanda said.


	23. Chapter 23

It hadn't been easy for Kurt to leave his room after his talk with his uncle. It did do him good to know his uncle was being honest with him, that he'd decided it would be best for Kurt to learn the truth now.

Kurt had always set great stock in the truth, which was one of the many reasons his inability to tell his uncle what had happened shamed him. His uncle had done nothing but protect and care about him, and Kurt returned that kindness with keeping secrets.

And that was, of course, what bothered him. His uncle had been honest with him. What was stopping him from returning that honesty, from returning that level of caring and consideration his uncle was showing for him?

His uncle had, of course, already guessed what had happened. There were several important details he was missing, things which Kurt had, at one point, believed would push him away, would make his uncle look at him in disgust.

Now Kurt wasn't so sure. He started thinking about the priest who had taken his confession when he'd first come to New York. He'd seemed sad when Kurt spoke to him. He thought of Amanda's tears, the way she had embraced him so tightly it hurt.

And Kurt began to wonder if, just maybe, he could tell his uncle, if it was safe to let him know what had happened. There were so many secrets and things they hadn't dared to say. Maybe this was something it was safe to say, something that was better getting out.

After all, he'd already learned his mother was a terrorist who had cast his uncle's love aside. Kurt knew she had her own side to the story, but Kurt wasn't sure if he'd ever understand the thinking that went into cutting off a relative.

Yes, there were reasons why people did that, and Kurt recognized them as legitimate. If that person had hurt you repeatedly, raised their hands to you, if they were, in short, abusive, then yes, it might be best to cut them off for at least a while.

However, he doubted that was what had happened with his uncle and his mother. There was still plenty to be explained, that much he was sure of, but, at the moment, he had enough information to feel that his mother shouldn't have left.

It took him longer than he would've liked to summon the necessary courage but, in the end, he knew he couldn't put it off for forever. His uncle had given him his space after that first night, so he looked both delighted and surprised when Kurt walked in.

If only he knew what Kurt was about to tell him.

"I vanted...vhen I first came here," Kurt said, "You knew zat I vas running from somezing."

"I did," Charles said.

His voice was suddenly cautious, but there was a note of curiosity there too. Kurt gulped and closed his eyes.

"I...I haf spoken of Stefan a few times," he said, "Amanda's brother."

"Yes," Charles said, "You have."

Kurt swallowed, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

"He left ze circus about two years ago," he said, "He sent letters, und he came home for holidays. Margali vas very upset vhen he did zat, but I alvays felt he vas trying to figure out vhat he vanted to do, ja?"

Charles nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"On ze last few visits," Kurt said, "Stefan vas a little...erratic. He vas still himself, but ve vould find him walking around, staring into space, und he vould not remember it ze next moment. Ve thought he vas sleepvalking. He zought he vas sleepvalking."

Kurt began to rub his hands together.

"Zen," he said, "Zen, you see, he, he...vas...getting angry about zings zat vould not normally make him angry. But ve did not zink..."

He bit his lip.

"Amanda und I decided to visit," he said, "Just for a little vhile. As a break. He sounded so happy to hear ve vere coming. Und ve...ve vere happy to be going."

The next few words rattled inside his head before coming out slowly and ponderously.

"Und during ze visit, zings seemed to be fine," Kurt said, "Zen Amanda und I vent out for groceries. Eferyvone vas staring at me, more zan usual, und I felt uncomfortable. So I told Amanda zat I vould teleport back und meet her there."

Images flashed in front of his eyes, and Kurt could feel the tears gathering there.

"Und..."

The tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Und..."

A hand lightly touched his wrist. He opened his eyes and saw his uncle looking at him, concerned.

"Kurt," he said gently, "What happened?"

Kurt's eyes misted over, and he thought about a day that seemed so distant and, yet, he carried with him every day.

 _Kurt teleported into the backyard of Stefan's house. He felt exhausted, and more than a little shaken. The stares had just been so hostile, especially when Amanda had reached out and twined her hand with his. It was an act of love and defiance, but Kurt had had enough of their venom for that day._

 _The community was already on edge: several children had disappeared recently. He supposed that, in a relatively rural part of a bigger city, his appearance would seem to be some sort of bad omen._

 _He used his spare key and walked into the back door, rubbing his forehead. He knew he'd have to tell Stefan what happened. They weren't supposed to be back for another hour at least, and Kurt knew Stefan would want to know why he was back without Amanda._

 _However, something about the house smelled off. Kurt wrinkled his nose. It smelt a bit like it did whenever they had a pig roast at the circus. Kurt had always had to help with the butchering, and he'd hated the smell of the clotting blood._

 _To his knowledge Stefan hadn't had any meat delivered. He furrowed his brow and walked further into the house. He could hear movement if he concentrated and, suddenly, he wondered if Stefan had hurt himself. Stefan was very graceful on the trapeze, but it wasn't impossible._

 _Panicking, Kurt suddenly teleported to where he heard the movement._

 _"Stefan?" he asked, "Are you-?"_

 _The words died in his throat. Later, he would only remember what he saw as a series of images, snapshots of horror. The blood imprinted in his mind, smeared over the floor and Stefan's face. The knife. The still form of the child._

 _"Ste...Stefan?" he'd croaked._

 _Stefan dropped the child's arm._

 _"You weren't supposed to see this," he said calmly._

 _"Stefan..." Kurt managed, "What...what happened?"_

 _Stefan shrugged and gestured to the child with the knife._

 _"I know what this looks like," he said, "But it's not a child Kurt."_

 _"I...what?" Kurt said._

 _Stefan gave a frustrated sigh, almost as though he was speaking to someone who was terribly stupid._

 _"It's a demon," he said, "It's obvious. Can't you see?"_

 _Kurt just stared at him. On some small level he registered the body still on the floor, but the rest of him was screaming for some sort of way he could escape._

 _"He...he's a child," Kurt said._

 _"No he's not," said Stefan, "Him and the others. How come no one else can see?"_

 _"Others?" Kurt asked._

 _His voice became high-pitched, hysterical._

 _"How many other children have you killed?" he shrieked._

 _"They're not children!" Stefan yelled, "Can't you see that? You should be able to see that! How can you not recognize a demon when you see one? How can-"_

 _He stopped, his eyes widening._

 _"Have they gotten to you too?" he asked._

 _"Who?" asked Kurt._

 _"They have," Stefan said, "Kurt, how could you do this? I trusted you!"_

 _"Stefan," Kurt said._

 _He held out his hands in a placating gesture. Kurt noticed they were trembling._

 _"I...Stefan, we have to go to ze police," he said, "You haf to turn yourself in. You haf to get help."_

 _Stefan sneered._

 _"There are too many other demons out there for me to do that," he said, "And you, you're no better than them. I can't believe..."_

 _He shook his head._

 _"Kurt, I'm going to let you go," he said, his voice firm, "I think you've earned that. After everything, that's what I owe you. You can go downstairs and pretend you never saw anything."_

 _Despite Kurt's instincts, it was a tempting offer. He could pretend that one of the most important people in his life wasn't a murderer. He could pretend that everything was going to be okay, that this had never happened. Hadn't he been praying for that very thing?_

 _But, from deep inside him, something rebelled. Kurt wondered if it was his conscience or God himself. Either way, he knew he would never be able to be silent about what he'd seen. Not without damning himself and, quite possibly, Stefan too._

 _He needed to try to save him._

 _"Stefan, I can't do zat," he said._

 _Stefan sighed. He looked at the body on the floor and toed it with his foot._

 _"You try and do the right thing," he said._

 _Kurt blinked and, a second later, Stefan was lunging at him. Kurt felt the knife swish in the air in front of him. Startled and frightened, Kurt teleported behind him._

 _"Stefan, stop!" he yelled._

 _"I can't have you telling anyone!" Stefan yelled back._

 _Tears stung his eyes as he teleported and flitted from space to space. Inside his head he was in all-out panic mode. How could this be happening? How could he be fighting Stefan, his friend, his brother, one of the only people who loved and understood him?_

 _The knife came at him again, and Kurt teleported behind Stefan. He grappled him from behind, hoping to force him to the ground. Stefan howled in rage and slammed him against the wall. Kurt hit his head, but held on._

 _Stefan twisted back and forth. Kurt worried he'd strangle himself, and he tried to force the two of them down to the ground. But Stefan fought back, pushing them towards another wall. Kurt shifted his weight, swinging them so they fell down._

 _There was a tangle of limbs and punches, and Kurt felt something twist. A snap filled the air and Stefan suddenly went limp. Kurt let go, feeling all resistance to his movements disappear, and fear gripped his heart._

 _"Stefan?" he asked._

 _Stefan didn't respond. Ice and pain flooded through him, his entire being trembling as he moved. Kurt rolled Stefan over and saw his friend's listless eyes staring at the ceiling, all life gone from them._

 _And then he screamed._

Kurt didn't look his uncle in the eyes as he finished his story.

"Some of ze neighbors heard ze commotion," he said, "Und they came, saw, und made an assumption. I panicked und...und I fled. Amanda found me, listened, und togezzer ve managed to get out of ze city."

His voice caught, remembering letting her go with the knowledge he might never see her again, the knowledge that his old life was over for good.

"Ve had to separate, und I came here because...because..." he said.

Words escaped him, but his uncle filled the silence for him.

"Because you had nowhere else to go," Charles said.

Kurt nodded. Suddenly, he felt two arms wrap around him. He blinked in surprise. His uncle had pulled himself up to where he could hug him.

"You tried to do the right thing Kurt," he said.

"I failed," Kurt whispered.

"But you tried," Charles said, "And that's something."

A sob rose to his throat, nearly choking him. He hugged his uncle back, feeling the closest thing to safety since he'd left Amanda.

"But it vas not enough," he said, "Und I do not feel like it vas vorth anyzing."

"I know," Charles said quietly, "But...no matter what we feel, it was worth everything."

"And if I don't believe zat?" Kurt murmured.

"You have to," Charles said.

He held him tighter.

"Otherwise there's no point to anything," he said.


	24. Chapter 24

"Kurt?" Charles asked.

His nephew looked up, his eyes smudged with tears. They had been silent for what seemed like hours, the information he'd given him tearing into him. No wonder Kurt had fled to a different country, leaving behind everyone he'd known and cared about.

In his shoes, Charles would have left too.

"You know that what happened wasn't your fault, don't you?" he asked.

Kurt hesitated, and then shook his head.

"I could haf tried harder," he said.

"In what way specifically?" asked Charles, "It was an accident."

"But vhat if I had told him to get help earlier?" asked Kurt, "He might not haf gotten zat bad. He might haf gotten better-"

"If you're going by that logic Kurt, then everyone in that family is to blame too," he said, "If you didn't realize what was happening, even though you were close to him, then it's unlikely they would have realized what was happening either."

He gripped his nephew's shoulder tighter.

"And you must understand Kurt," he said, "Just because someone is acting strangely doesn't mean they're going to hurt themselves or others. There's no sinecure, no sure way to know what someone's thinking or feeling when their mental state starts to disintegrate. Yes, Stefan needed help, but you yourself said you hadn't seen him in months, and he'd been able to pass for normal during your trip."

Kurt nodded again, but he still looked uncertain.

"There wasn't anything you could have done," Charles said.

Kurt shook his head.

"But in ze fight," he said, "Vhat if I had managed to talk him out of it? If I had managed to get him to ze polizei?"

"Kurt, he had just murdered a child," Charles said, "I'm not sure he was in the mood to be reasoned with, no matter how well-meaning your intentions were."

His nephew turned away from him glumly. Charles searched for the appropriate words, words that would truly comfort his nephew in his time of need. For all his year as headmaster of a school for children which had all had unique and life-changing experiences, he was almost at a complete loss.

Yet, there was still one thing he could tell his distraught nephew.

"When I was younger, I used to think that I could save everyone," Charles said, "I used to think that if I tried hard enough, I could give everyone a happy ending, that no one had to suffer as long as I was there to help them."

Kurt looked up at him, curious, but his eyes were still watering.

"As I grew older I realized that, no, I couldn't demand that of the world," he said, "I could barely even beg anything. I realized that, no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn't be able to give everyone what they wanted and do the right thing at the same time."

He decided to leave out that it was Kurt's mother who, along with Erik, had helped him realize that.

"And I became depressed for a very long time," Charles said, "But I realized that, even if I was going to fail, that was no reason to give up. It was no reason to stop fighting, to stop trying to do what I knew was right."

Charles reached out and grasped his nephew's shoulder.

"You can't save everyone," Charles said, "That doesn't mean you have to stop trying, stop hoping, but you do have to realize that you're going to fail sometimes."

Kurt's lips moved wordlessly for a moment. When he finally did speak, Charles expected him to have a question. His response surprised him.

"God grant me ze serenity to accept ze zings I cannot change; courage to change ze zings I can; und visdom to know ze difference," he said.

A small smile managed to form on Charles's face. It had been too long since he'd heard those words, and even longer since he'd truly believed them. But then again, perhaps now was the time to think about them again.

"Yes," he said, "Something like that."

* * *

Logan gave Mystique a look out of the corner of his eye. He tried to keep most of his attention on the road because he was driving, but he really couldn't resist peeking at her from time to time. Her lips were pulled back in a thin line and her face was taut with rage. She hadn't spoken much since Amanda had revealed Kurt's location, and, for the moment, Logan was being delicate.

He decided he would continue to be so as long as Amanda was within earshot. She was going to be a potent ally in the next few days. Kurt didn't know who any of them were and, if they were going to protect him, he was going to have to trust them. Amanda was going to go a long way toward that, even if she didn't know it yet.

However, he could see that the girl was getting tired. The last two days had been trying for her, in between fighting for her life, arguing with Mystique, and then finally agreeing to cooperate. She was just about ready to fall asleep.

And, as soon as she did so, he was going to completely lose it on the woman next to him. He didn't care if he was navigating a mountain pass or if he somehow managed to hit a patch of ice. For all of Mystique's pious snappings, her rages and refusals, they were right back to square one, only after having wasted a month in the process.

He was glad Wade and Chris weren't there. They'd split up again to try and throw their pursuers off, but it was a temporary measure at best. It was all they could think of to avoid being followed to Westchester which, apparently, was where they had to go now.

And oh, how it burned. He'd been the one who'd wanted to go to Westchester from the beginning. Mystique had mentioned in passing once that her brother could track mutants. However, she'd refused to get him involved. Logan had been a bit more desperate then, and they'd argued about it, before Mystique had finally played the trump card: there were children there. How could they risk getting children involved?

Now he'd been away from Kayla for over four months, and he knew she was worried. He'd only been able to place a handful of scattered phone calls, all from secure lines of course. It hadn't been enough, and he could tell he was rapidly spiraling toward confessing just why he insisted she cut herself off from the rest of the world, along with her sister.

She did know about some things. He'd told her about his apparent immortality, the wars, but not all of it. No, he'd left the worst parts out, afraid that the woman he loved would find out too much about things he'd rather leave out, too much about his brother and the things they'd done together.

If she still wanted to be with him after all of this, he knew he'd have to tell her the truth about things. It wasn't a conversation he was looking forward to, but he had the feeling this was something that had been a long time in coming.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amanda blink a few times. Inwardly he smiled to himself. Yes, now he was about to unleash his reckoning on the woman next to him. He could see she was noticing too, and the tightness around her mouth became more and more pronounced. she was nervous. Good.

Amanda's head fell forward and her body slumped in her seat. Logan waited for a moment to make sure she was really asleep.

"For your information," Mystique said coldly, "Several of those children at the school are around Emma's age."

He felt like she'd just slapped him.

"What?" he demanded.

"You heard me," she said, her voice still cold, "I weighed the costs and benefits and, like I said, quite a few of those children are Emma's age and younger. Just try to use that to put things in perspective before you decide to get righteous with me."

"Right," Logan said, his voice low as he turned a corner, "So it was all about the kids, and it had nuthin ta do with the fact that ya didn't want ta see your brother."

Her eyes flashed.

"You took me on knowing that I didn't want to cross certain lines," she said, "Don't just pretend like I dumped all of this on you at the last minute."

"Face it," Logan snapped, "Ya didn't do this for anyone but yaself."

Again, her eyes seemed to focus in on him, as though she was trying to get a lock on him.

"Don't you dare tell me you're not doing any of this for you," she said, "This whole mess is your fault-"

"Vic's fault-"

"And you were the one who wanted me here," Mystique said, "You're the selfish one."

He snorted.

"I know I'm selfish in all o this," he said, "But at least I'm gonna admit it."

Mystique shook her head and looked toward the back where Amanda was.

"What are we going to do with her?" she asked.

"Take her along for the trip o course," Logan said, "Don't think your son's gonna welcome ya back with open arms from what ya've told me, and we need someone ta smooth that shit over."

She let out a breath between clenched teeth.

"I mean what are we going to do now that she knows?" asked Mystique, "You wanted to be the one to do this on the sly, and I want to make sure she isn't going to ruin all of the work we've done already."

He snorted again.

"She's gonna keep quiet," he said.

"How do you know that?" asked Mystique.

"Easy. Cause she knows Kurt's life is in danger," Logan said, "She'll listen to us."

"Sisters haven't always been known for their loyalty to their brothers," muttered Mystique.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. Did she seriously not see it?

"Amanda's not Kurt's sister," he said, "Least, she can't be without this bein really weird."

Mystique gave him an incredulous look. No, it looked like she really hadn't seen it.

"I left him with Margali," she said.

"Who obviously didn't raise them ta be brother an sister," he said.

"She's loyal to him," Mystique argued, "She obviously did."

Logan shook his head.

"The look she gets in her eye when she talks about him ain't the kinda look sisters get for their brothers," he said, "Or friends for other friends. Nah, that was something else."

Something clicked in Mystique's expression. She turned around in her chair so she could stare at Amanda.

"Get it now huh?" asked Logan.

"She...they're..." Mystique asked.

There was a tone of wonderment as well as sadness in Mystique's voice. Logan wanted to know just what she had expected: her son to be the baby she'd left on a doorstep. The question died when he realized that, yes, that was exactly what she wanted.

But it was something she was never going to have, and perhaps that was getting through to her now. Kurt would never again be small enough to fit in her arms. He had a life that, while tenuous, was still his own. It was a life that she had no part in.

And, in that moment, Logan was glad Wade wasn't there, because Wade wouldn't have known that it was best to just stay silent.


	25. Chapter 25

"Watch your back Cyclops!"

Scott rolled as a block slotted out of the head and nearly knocked him on his back. He grabbed onto the next one and vaulted over it, rolling again. Scott got back up and Warren grinned at him from his position in the air.

Another block came out of the wall toward Warren. Scott turned the dial on his goggles. He blasted it, the force knocking it back into the wall. Warren gave him a thumbs up before moving to the other side of the room.

Scott did a visual sweep. Jubilee was running across the room, Ororo close behind her. They both ducked as a block came out of the wall. When they got back up Jubilee pointed upwards. Ororo gave her a boost so she could get to a higher vantage point.

From the other side of the Danger Room he saw Jean smile at him. He smiled back. He couldn't help himself. Scott hadn't realized just how much he'd missed training as a team, a real team, until then.

A whirring noise filled the air and, suddenly, the lights came back on fully. Scott frowned and looked around, wondering if someone had flipped the switch to go to class or something, but everyone seemed just as confused as he was.

Footsteps filled the hall as Alex walked in, his hands in his pockets.

"Scott, can I borrow ya for a second?" he asked.

Scott swallowed, although he didn't know why. It wasn't like they'd been forbidden from training or anything. He glanced back at the team, who gave him what they probably thought was encouraging looks.

It really looked like they were all about to be sick, but he decided not to tell them that. They were trying to be supportive after all. So he gave them a smile back and jogged up so he was level with his brother.

Alex jerked his head to the next room over and Scott followed him. He closed the door behind him and gave Scott a long look. He didn't like the way his brother was looking at him, like he was trying to figure something out.

It was more than a little intimidating, and Scott felt a slight tremor of fear. Had he done something wrong? Scott brushed it off. Once again, they hadn't been forbidden from training, and they certainly hadn't been forbidden from figuring things out.

"So," he said, "Everything cool now?"

"Yeah," Scott said, "We all kinda...we talked it out and, we're good."

Alex stared at him for a moment longer. Again, that tremor started inside him. What had he done wrong?

"And you didn't do this earlier why?" he said.

Scott gaped. That was all? His brother just wanted to know why he couldn't have done this faster. Scott clenched his fist.

"You know, this might surprise you," he said, "But it's not that easy, okay? We figured it out, even with all that zen stuff you and the Professor were throwing at us. I'm sorry if I didn't do it fast enough."

He expected Alex to get angry or, in the very least, give a derisive snort. Instead he received an amused look and a small chuckle.

"Not sayin ya did it wrong," Alex said, "Just wonderin why the hell ya didn't just tell him what ya were thinking earlier."

Scott clenched his other fist.

"It's not easy," he muttered.

"Apparently," Alex said.

He walked toward Scott and tapped him on the forehead.

"Scott, why do you have such a hard time telling people what's goin on inside your noggin?" he asked, sounding wistful.

Scott looked up at him, wanting to be angry. However, he couldn't. Not when Alex was using the tone he used the first time he'd ever told Scott he was proud of him. It was just too difficult.

"I mean, mom and dad never really encouraged that kinda shit," Alex said, "But...I thought that was just me."

"Looks like it isn't," Scott said, "Why did you think it was just you?"

"Because I was an asshole when I was your age," Alex said, "I mean, I was gettin better an all, but I was still an asshole. You...I just thought it would be different for you."

He put a hand on his shoulder.

"Scott, I know sometimes you probably feel like I ask too much of you," he said, "And...not gonna lie, I probably do. But that's only because I don't think you'd be happy playing second fiddle to anyone. Not when you can be more."

It felt like a slap in the face.

"That's...how did you figure that one out?" Scott asked.

"Well, sometimes you kinda remind me of me when I was your age," said Alex, "The asshole part notwithstanding."

Scott cracked a grin. Alex grinned back at him.

"I don't want ya ta feel like I'm holding ya back," Alex said, "And I'm glad ya sorted things out with Warren. He was a dick about the whole thing, but friends aren't something ya should cast away lightly."

"I know," Scott said.

Alex nodded and gestured toward the door.

"You should probably get out there with them," he said, "You're going to need all the training you can get."

"Why?" asked Scott.

His brother's grin widened.

"I'm gonna go tell the Professor I think he should cut ya suspension short," he said, "I've had a coupla busy nights lately, and I wanna catch up on my beauty sleep."

Joy filled Scott. They were going to be back on the field, they were going to be X-men again. A sarcastic reply came to his tongue, perhaps a remark about how Alex should've slept in that morning, but he decided not to. Instead he walked up and hugged Alex.

"Thank you," Scott said.

His brother's arms wrapped around him, hugging him back.

"Any time little bro," said Alex, "Any time."

* * *

Kurt walked down the hall, his workbooks in hand. It had been difficult to make the decision to get out of bed and go to his GED prep classes. It had been difficult to concentrate during the class, and he didn't know how much of the material he'd absorbed.

"Hey, Kurt!"

He turned. Warren was running down the hall behind him, his wings narrowly avoiding the oncoming students. Kurt stopped, uncertain of what his almost-friend was going to say. They hadn't parted on the best terms.

However, Warren was grinning. That must mean something good.

"Hey," Warren said, "Glad I caught you. You're kinda hard to find."

Kurt shrugged, unwilling to tell him how he'd spent the past day.

"A few of us were gonna go down to the town tomorrow," Warren said, "I was wondering if you wanted to come too."

He bit his lip and looked down at his feet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to go out, not feeling the way he was. Warren, seeing his reaction, rushed to speak.

"Hey, it's cool," Warren said, "They're not assholes like most people are when it comes to physical mutations. I mean, I got a few gasps when I went down there the first time, but they're totally cool with me now."

There was a pause. Kurt didn't know what to say. Warren was pretending like nothing had happened, and Kurt didn't know what to make of that. The way he remembered it, Warren had called him an asshole.

Was he remembering it wrong? The day was kind of a blur. As soon as Kurt began talking about not living in the past, a vision of Stefan had swum up to greet him, making him feel sick to his stomach.

He still felt sick to his stomach when he thought of it.

"You know what?"

He blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Warren jerked his thumb to an empty classroom.

"Let's not do this out here, 'kay?" he said.

Kurt nodded and followed Warren into the nearby room. Warren sat down on one of the desks, swinging his legs. He paused briefly.

"A lot of us are having private chats lately," he muttered.

"Vhat?" asked Kurt.

"Nothing," Warren said.

Warren clasped his hands in front of him.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened earlier," he said, "Jean was a really sensitive subject. I...I liked her, and my best friend did too and..."

A grimace crossed Warren's face. Kurt could figure out the rest.

"I am sorry," he said.

"Not as sorry as I am for not handling it better," Warren said, "And I took all that out on you when you were trying to help. I'm sorry about that Kurt. I shouldn't have. It was a shitty thing to do."

Warren gave him a half-smile.

"Sometimes I don't make the best choices," he said.

Kurt returned the smile. He thought of Stefan's words years ago and, even though there was still pain, there was some joy in the memory too. He supposed that every memory of Stefan would be that way from now on.

"It's alright," he said.

"Seriously?" asked Warren, surprised, "That easy? This is weird."

Kurt wanted to laugh.

"It's forgiveness," Kurt said, "It can be easy or difficult. Und I choose to make it easy."

"You really shouldn't," said Warren, "Someone's gonna take advantage of that some day."

"Probably," Kurt agreed, "But it ist my decision."

He pulled himself onto one of the spare desks.

"Besides," he said, "I know vhat it ist like to not be sure of yourself."

Warren fell silent and looked at his hands. Kurt wondered what trials he'd been through because of his wings, because he was different. Again, Stefan's words whispered into his head. Perhaps it was time to share them.

"I vas raised by a circus family," Kurt said, "Gut people. Not really mein family, but good people. Vhen I vas younger, I used to be very afraid of vhat I looked like, vhat I could do."

He shook his head at the memory.

"But I vas very religious," Kurt said, "I still am. Und, as a child...zis vas not a good vay to look."

"Oh shit," Warren said.

Warren really did swear too much, but Kurt was happy he understood. Having a physical mutation was difficult enough, but theirs came with connotations.

"But, after ve heard about mutants, Stefan, mein friend, told me somezing," Kurt said, "I haf never forgotten it."

He took a deep breath. The memory was painful, but it was also sweet. He wondered if this was how every memory of Stefan would be from now on. Given the events of the past few days, he rather thought it would be.

"He said to me, 'How do you know zat you're ze only one out zere like zis?'" Kurt said, "How do you know zat, right now, at zis very moment, zere isn't a boy vith angel wings vondering vhat is wrong vith him?'"

Warren slumped, his face filled with a cross between awe and sadness. Kurt had seen that same expression looking at him in the mirror far too many times to count.

"And now you've found that boy," he said.

"I haf," Kurt said, "Und I am happy."

"Why?" asked Warren.

A snort escaped Kurt's lips involuntarily. Really, this should be obvious.

"Because you are not as sad as I vas zen," said Kurt, "Und, even if you haf made bad decisions, you are trying to make amends. Even if you vere like ze little boy I once vas, you are not now."

Warren grinned, his eyes shining.

"Quite the pair, aren't we?" he asked.

Kurt nodded.

"Ja," he said, "Ve are."


	26. Chapter 26

Amanda cracked her neck, feeling tired and sore. She had slept in the car the night before, which probably hadn't been a good idea, but she hadn't been able to stay awake for much longer. She'd stayed awake the entire time they were on the ferry, and it had left her feeling dazed and disoriented.

At least, when she'd woken up, nothing had been stolen and she wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere. It did seem like Mystique was being true to her word. They probably did need someone like her to make sure Kurt didn't bolt the minute he saw her.

On some level, Amanda felt like she was a traitor. The last thing Kurt needed right now were people like his mother interrupting whatever life he'd managed to build. He deserved to be able to have some peace.

However, if people were going to kill him, and it looked like they were, she would take whatever means necessary to get to where he was. If that meant hitching a ride with people like his mother, then she was would do it.

After she got to New York, well, that would change. Amanda would have to weigh her options very carefully and, at the moment, she wasn't sure if she was in any position to do much of that. Not right now, not with so many variables unknown.

"Are you awake?" Mystique asked.

"Unfortunately," Amanda grumbled.

She ran a hand through her hair. It hadn't been washed in days. A loud snort brought her out of her musings.

"Is Logan asleep?" she asked.

"Yes," Mystique answered, "We're taking turns. We should be at Westchester in about eight hours."

Amanda's stomach flipped, and she breathed in slowly. Eight hours. After a month of pain and loneliness, that was all that stood between her and Kurt, the last person she had in the entire world.

If, of course, he was where they thought he was.

"How do we even know Kurt's still at Westchester?" asked Amanda.

Although she tried to keep her tone light, there was some genuine worry behind her words. She'd always wondered what Kurt would do if he found he couldn't stay with his uncle. It was their only meeting place. Would he go and then come back? She didn't know.

"He'll still be there," Mystique said, "My brother won't throw him out. He's probably trying to convince him to stay there forever."

Amanda gave the back of Mystique's head a concentrated look, but she didn't turn away from the road.

"He's that hospitable?" asked Amanda.

"Charles loves taking in strays," Mystique said, "Always had, always will. The fact Kurt's my son means that, not only will the door be open, all of the windows will be too. He'd probably roll out the red carpet."

She digested the information, slowly rolling it around in her head. Her English wasn't perfect, but she had always been able to speak it without the accent that plagued Kurt. Amanda wanted to make sure she fully understood what Mystique had said before asking any more questions.

When she felt confident enough about what Mystique had meant, she spoke.

"How come you didn't leave Kurt with him then?" asked Amanda.

Mystique turned her head slightly.

"Given that, earlier, you didn't want to share any personal details with me, I reserve the right to tell you absolutely nothing too," Mystique said.

Amanda rolled her eyes. Great. She stared out the window, choosing her next words with care. Amanda had to annoy Mystique just enough.

"I did some research on Westchester over the past month or so," Amanda said, "It wasn't easy, but I hear it's a really nice area. Kind of expensive."

Mystique didn't say anything. She had the feeling she was on the right track.

"It just baffles me why a woman who grew up with money would want her son raised by some near-penniless circus performers," Amanda said, "Especially when she could've given him to her rich brother."

"I didn't come from money," Mystique said.

"But your brother did?" asked Amanda.

She saw Amanda's blue fingers grip the steering wheel tightly.

"I was adopted," she said.

Now that really did take the cake.

"So you knew what it was like to be abandoned," Amanda said, "And you did it to your son anyway."

"You're rather judgmental," Mystique said.

"I'm trying to understand," said Amanda, "I want to know why you left Kurt with my mother all those years ago, because I know he's going to want to know."

"He won't have to know if we do this right," Mystique said.

"And what is right in this situation exactly?" Amanda asked, "I don't know what your game plan is here."

Logan grunted from his seat, and both women paused. The last thing they needed was for him to enter the conversation. It would most likely kill it, and Amanda needed it to continue. However, he didn't move and Amanda relaxed a little.

"Look," Amanda said, "Either way, this is going to hurt Kurt. I'm just trying to reduce the damage."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself," said Mystique.

"I'm an optimist," Amanda said.

Mystique shook her head.

"You don't understand what you're asking," she said.

"Yes, I do," Amanda said, "I'm asking why you abandoned him all those years ago."

"Are you complaining?" snapped Mystique, "You two are together, aren't you?"

Her brow furrowed. Amanda had no idea how Mystique had figured that one out.

"Yes," she said.

"Then just take what positives you can get," Mystique said, her voice still snappish, "You never would've met Kurt if I hadn't given him to your mother."

Amanda chuckled to herself. She knew Kurt would have more conviction in the answer she was about to give, but that didn't mean she didn't believe it. Too much had happened in Amanda's life not to believe this.

"God wanted us to be together," she said, "He would've found a way even if Kurt had grown up in New York."

Mystique paused. She obviously hadn't been expecting that answer.

"That sounds...rather dumb."

Amanda shook her head.

"I figured you'd say that," she said, "But we've needed each other over the years. Maybe he wouldn't have needed me as much as he has if he grew up with his family, with other people who cared deeply about him and wanted good things for him. Not that my mother hated him, not until recently, but he never quite felt like he belonged with our family."

"That's not what I asked her to do," Mystique said tightly.

"I saw that note," Amanda said, "It's why Kurt's with your brother right now. You didn't really explain very much."

"Margali knew exactly what I wanted when I wrote that. We'd discussed it."

Now that did take her by surprise.

"You discussed abandoning your son with her?" asked Amanda.

"I discussed her taking care of Kurt if anything happened to me," Mystique snapped.

"But you're still here," Amanda said.

"Yes," Mystique said bitterly, "I am."

Now that was something to file away. Amanda began marshalling her next words. There was so much she could find out, so much she could tell Kurt. Knowing Kurt, he'd probably want to meet his mother, but he'd need to be prepared.

Mystique was not a kind woman, and Amanda doubted she was particularly affectionate. Kurt deserved the ability to choose whether or not he wanted to see her, and Amanda wouldn't stop him when the time came. She would just be there to try to help him with the resulting hurt.

"And God didn't want you to be with Kurt," Mystique said, "He's not that cruel."

Amanda let out a shallow breath. Red flashed in front of her eyes, but she knew it would be a bad idea to hurt the person who was driving the car.

"Explain," she hissed from clenched teeth.

"Earlier you told me Kurt never hurt anyone," Mystique said, "Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened."

Despite Mystique's assertion, Amanda still felt puzzled. Combined with her rage, it was a rather potent mixture.

"Still have no clue what you're talking about," she said.

Mystique flicked her eyes toward her.

"If you're going to play it that way," Mystique said, "Then fine. Kurt didn't kill Stefan."

Amanda squeezed her eyes shut. If only that were true.

"You did."

For a moment, Mystique's words didn't register. Then they did, as slowly as ice moving down the side of a mountain, and with just as much force when it crashed.

"He covered for you, didn't he?" Mystique asked.

The words Amanda wanted to spit back were swallowed by a nameless rage.

"Stupid boy," Mystique muttered.

Finally, Amanda opened her eyes.

"You're an idiot."

The car slowed, and then pulled over. Mystique turned around in her seat. Amanda didn't flinch.

"You. Are. An. Idiot," Amanda seethed, "You have absolutely no idea, do you?"

"About what?"

"About your son," snapped Amanda, "You don't know what kind of a person he is. He's not a scapegoat, and he's not some damn patsy. Anyone who knows anything about him would know he wouldn't do that."

She leaned forward, the seat belt holding her in place.

"If I had killed someone, Kurt wouldn't have covered for me," she said, "He would've helped me see that turning myself in was the right thing to do. He would've been there for me, oh yes, visited me several times every week, but he wouldn't have swept it under the rug."

"You said-"

Amanda snorted.

"He never meant to hurt anyone, and, to be frank, this is actually a rather new situation in my head," Amanda said, "I wake up thinking it didn't happen, because these things aren't supposed to happen. And sometimes it's easier to pretend it didn't, to go back to the old way of doing things."

She shook her head.

"But I can't," she said, "Not any more"

It should've ended there, it really should have. However, Mystique kept talking.

"Then why did he run?" asked Mystique.

Was she so desperate to be right?

"Because there was an angry mob," Amanda said, seeing read again, "That's not justice, and it would've been dumb to stick around. We both saw that, saw there wasn't any point in sticking around."

She crossed her arms and pushed back into her chair.

"Anyone in their right mind would've known it was self-defense, but no," Amanda said, "No one was in their right mind. My mother was right about one thing: you can't trust the authorities."

Her voice was bitter and she knew it. She wasn't being fair either with that last sentence, but she didn't give a damn at the moment.

"The real funny thing though," Amanda said, "is my mother thinks I'm a whore who covered up for the man I loved. You think I'm a murderer who did the exact opposite. Both of you made dumbass judgments, and both of you are idiots."

Mystique was still looking at her, her eyes difficult to read.

"You know nothing about me, and you know nothing of Kurt," Amanda said, "And you're nothing like him either, because he wouldn't have made a snap decision about someone like that. He would at least try to listen."

She narrowed her eyes.

"He has your skin and your eyes, but he has nothing else of you in him," she said, "And I'm glad. Now get this thing started so we can catch up to him before the people trying to kill him do."

Amanda turned her head and stared resolutely out of the window. At first there was only silence, and then the car started up. Amanda didn't turn her head though, didn't say anything. In the past few minutes, she'd learned she couldn't trust Mystique.

She'd need to ditch her as soon as possible once they found Kurt.


	27. Chapter 27

There were a lot of new names for Kurt to remember, although it wasn't that difficult. He'd only met Scott briefly once, and he'd straight up never seen Jubilee and Ororo before, but they all seemed nice enough.

It was, of course, a little awkward as they walked through the town. He was something of an outsider for their small group, and he was a complete stranger to three of them. That would make any introduction awkward.

Warren was sticking by him, almost as though he were trying to ensure Kurt didn't feel too awkward. He shouldn't have worried about it. True, Kurt was nervous about being out in the open, but his uncle said it would be a good idea for him to get out of the school.

Kurt wasn't sure how he felt about that, but his uncle had been right about many things in the past. He decided to trust him in this too, that it would help return things to normal.

If it resulted in a few nerve-wracking hours, well, that was only to be expected.

"So, where are you from originally?" asked Scott.

"Germany," Kurt said.

"Yeah, I think we got that one," Ororo grinned.

Warren raised his eyebrows, but Kurt just smiled. He could take a joke.

"Everyvhere I suppose," Kurt said, "Ze circus travelled to many different places."

"You grew up in a circus?" asked Jubilee.

Kurt got ready to say he was an acrobat, he was getting sick of the looks he normally got when he said he'd been in a circus, but Jubilee talked over him.

"So, were you a clown?" she asked, "Oooh! What about animals? Did you ever work with any elephants or lions?"

"No," Kurt said, taken aback, "I vas an acrobat."

Jubilee pulled a piece of gum out of her pocket and started unwrapping it.

"Awesome!" she said, "Do you do flips?"

"Hey, he's not gonna do tricks for you," Warren said.

"That's not what I meant," Jubilee frowned.

She popped the piece of gum into her mouth.

"I just wanted to have a conversation," she said.

Jubilee chomped down on the piece, her jaws working rapidly. Kurt stared, feeling fascinated. People didn't chew gum much where he was from, and not with such relish. Jubilee was attacking it as if it were an enemy that had somehow managed to get inside her mouth.

"Right," Warren said.

She blew a bubble and popped it, returning to her chewing.

"Your jaw muscles will be huge," Scott said.

So Kurt wasn't the only one thinking it.

"I'll be fine," Jubilee said.

Jean shook her head and put her hands in her pockets.

"So, do you guys wanna go get a soda or something?" she asked.

"Or somezing?" Kurt asked.

"We didn't really have a plan," Jean said, shrugging, "Just wanted to get out for a bit. It's a little cool for ice cream."

"It is never too cold for ice cream," said Warren.

"It's practically freezing here," Ororo mumbled, "Seriously, every winter I forget just how damn cold it is out here."

She burrowed into her jacket and Kurt frowned. It was a little chilly, fall was coming with a vengeance, but not to the level she was clearly at. Warren caught his expression and gave him a shrug.

"She's from Morocco originally," he said.

"Oh," Kurt said.

It appeared he wasn't the only international student in the Institute.

"Let's get sodas," Scott said, "Or hot chocolates in Ororo's case."

"I'm not that bad," said Ororo defensively.

"You sure do act like it," Warren said.

Ororo slapped his arm and made a face, but she didn't really seem angry. They all seemed like they were in remarkably good moods. He wondered if something had happened between the five of them, but he figured it didn't really matter.

"I still want ice cream," Warren said.

"Of course you do," sighed Jean.

"Hey, I've got it," said Warren, snapping his fingers, "I'll get some ice cream, and then I'll meet you at that coffee shop around the corner. They've got sodas and coffee, so that works."

"Their coffee is terrible," said Ororo.

Warren threw his hands up.

"There's no making you happy, is there?" he asked.

"Not when you're this stupid," Ororo replied.

"Look, it's a good idea," said Scott, "And yeah, they're coffee's pretty bad, but their hot chocolate is good."

"I never said I wanted hot chocolate!" said Ororo.

Warren laughed and threw his arm around Kurt's shoulder.

"Okay, you guys go and get whatever, and Kurt and I'll get ice cream," he said.

Kurt felt a little surprised, not in the least because he hadn't expressed a preference. Jean frowned.

"Do you want ice cream Kurt?" she asked.

He thought for a moment, and then shrugged.

"Why not?" he said.

"See, there you go," Warren said, "He can't live without it. I'll see you guys again in ten."

Waving cheerfully, Warren steered Kurt down a side street.

"Do you actually want ice cream?" he asked, "I only did that cause you looked a little overwhelmed."

"I vas," Kurt admitted.

"Yeah," said Warren, "I figured. They're a good crew and all, but it's a lot of people. I don't know if you're used to that or not."

"I used to perform," Kurt said, "It ist not large amounts of people zat bother me."

"Then what is it?" asked Warren.

Kurt didn't answer. The truth of it was that, yes, large groups of people did bother him now in ways they hadn't a few months ago. It was alright when he was inside the Institute. The Institute was a safe place, guarded by a man who cared about Kurt, and who Kurt cared about.

No, it was being out in the open with a lot of people, of being exposed. It would be honest to tell Warren that, but the thought of voicing it made Kurt squirm inwardly. He didn't like feeling uncomfortable. It was why he'd left town that fateful day and gone to Stefan's house early.

"You know what," Warren said, "I guess it doesn't matter. Just as long as you know we're not gonna hurt you or anything."

A laugh bubbled in Kurt's throat. It was loud, and Kurt was relieved there weren't that many people around. It sounded a little embarrassing.

"You all are ze least threatening people I haf ever seen," Kurt said.

Warren smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Well, appearances can be deceiving," he said.

He nudged Kurt's shoulder.

"So, I'm thinking you're more of a chocolate type of guy," he said, "Am I right?"

Kurt nodded.

"Awesome," Warren said, "They have this really great, and really chunky, rocky road flavor I think you'll like."

"Vhat ist rocky road?" asked Kurt.

His friend gaped at him, and then shook his head.

"Right, right, you're not from America," he said, "I'd just thought...damn. Well, this is gonna be a good chance for you to learn."

"Learn about vha-?" Kurt began.

Warren suddenly grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. A man in a baggy sweater stumbled, something that resembled a stick and a razor in his hand. Warren let go of Kurt's arm and kicked the man in the shins.

He fell to the ground and Warren put his foot on the man's hand that was holding the stick.

"Okay asshole," Warren said, "What the hell were you doing?"

"Varren?" asked Kurt, confused.

"This weirdo was gonna stab you with that," Warren said, gesturing to the object in the man's hand, "I wanna know what he thought he was doing."

The man looked up at him, glaring at him.

"Feel like talking?" asked Warren.

The man just grinned, and Kurt saw his eyes flicker to the side. Kurt followed his gaze and saw two men in jeans and jackets level guns. His heart skipped a beat, and then his reflexes, bred from years having to be quick on his feet, kicked in.

He threw himself at Warren just as the guns fired. There was a cloud of black smoke, and they ended up on a nearby rooftop. Warren stumbled when they reappeared, his eyes wide as he coughed.

"What...was that you teleporting?" he managed.

"Ja," Kurt said.

He pulled Warren down to the ground and peered over the ledge. The men were looking around, no doubt trying to figure out where they were.

"I think I'm gonna hurl," Warren said.

"You vill haf to vait," Kurt said urgently, "Zere are a lot of zem down zere."

"Define a lot," said Warren.

"Drei," Kurt said, "I mean three."

Warren chuckled. With every passing moment he looked a bit steadier. He was recovering faster than Kurt had expected him too, but he was still worried. The chuckle was not a good sign. Perhaps the sulfur had affected him differently.

"Yeah, I can take three guys," he said, "The guns thing is kinda tricky, but I don't think they have a ton of training. That means they're gonna be kinda sloppy."

"Varren, zis ist no time for jokes," Kurt snapped, "Ve need to get out of here."

His friend gave him a long look.

"Right," he said, "No point in endangering you."

Kurt blinked, taken aback.

"Vait, zey are after you?" he asked.

Warren's eyebrows reached his hairline.

"Why would they be after you?" he asked, "I don't think...just...why would they be after you?"

They both looked at each other.

"Later," Warren said, "You were right about the need to get out and, unfortunately, I think your teleportation powers are our best bet. Can you take us to Westchester?"

"Vith two or three jumsp," Kurt said, "But I am not sure you are ready for zat."

"You know what? Neither am I," said Warren, "Do you think you can get us to the coffee shop? That's not that far away."

"Ze vhat?" asked Kurt.

"The one they were talking about earlier," Warren said, "It's by those buildings with the yellow and blue trim we saw when we came in. You know the ones I'm talking about?"

"Vell, ja," Kurt said, "But vhy zere?"

"If we get there, we'll have back-up," said Warren, "We don't know how many more of these guys there are."

"You mean ze ozzers?" asked Kurt.

He couldn't ask the rest of them to get involved in this. He couldn't even ask Warren to get involved in this, but he didn't really have any choice at this point.

"I vill not-" Kurt said.

"You've got to trust me," Warren said, "Maybe this is just me being a wimp, but I'm not sure I could do three of those teleports. I'm pretty good at hiding it, but my feet feel like jelly right now. Okay?"

He hesitated.

"Okay?" asked Warren.

Kurt nodded reluctantly, but inside he felt like melting. He was being hunted. He'd thought he'd been so careful, taking care of everything. However, it appeared German was going to exercise its extradition rights with America.

Or was it? They had shot at them. It made Kurt more than just a little worried. He'd watched enough crime TV shows to know Cops weren't supposed to just straight-out shoot him, and he was pretty sure they'd been aiming to kill.

But he wasn't going to think about it too much. Survival first, introspection later.

"Ready for anozzer jump zen?" asked Kurt.

"Now that no other option presents itself, yeah," said Warren.

He grasped Kurt's wrist, and Kurt teleported. He hoped he was doing the right thing.


	28. Chapter 28

"Goddammit, slow down for a minute Wade!"

Amanda leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. They were only a few minutes away from Westchester, but she didn't like Logan's tone. From the gleam in Mystique's eyes as she drove the last few minutes, neither did she.

"Are you sure?" Logan asked.

Fear gripped Amanda. There could only be one thing they were talking about, and it made her heart skip a beat. They couldn't be too late. No matter what was happening, they couldn't be too late to protect Kurt. She couldn't have lost her chance to see him again. Not when she was so close.

"Fine," snapped Logan, "Hurry up."

He clicked off the phone and tossed it to the floor.

"Looks like we're gonna make a detour," Logan said, "Swing by New Salem."

Mystique jerked the wheel sharply to the left, almost giving Amanda whiplash. She noticed they were going considerably faster than they were a minute beforehand.

"Why?" asked Mystique.

"Looks like he figured out Kurt was here faster than we thought he would," Logan said.

No.

"Did they follow us?" asked Mystique.

"Doesn't look like it," said Logan, "Wade and Chris say they still have a bunch o people on their tails."

Mystique let out a frustrated breath.

"Have they made contact?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Not sure," Logan said, "Chris just intercepted a signal on their channel to converge on New Salem. Might be some other poor bastard he's after, but I don't think that's too likely given the distance to Westchester."

A clawing, sinking feeling threatened to pull Amanda under. It was the same feeling she'd felt as she held Kurt the night her brother died. And, just like then, it was swiftly followed by a fierce urge to protect him at all costs.

She couldn't lose him too. He was all she had left.

"How many of them are there?" asked Amanda.

Logan gave her a side look.

"Not important," he said, "You're staying in the car."

"No, I'm not," Amanda said.

'Yes, you are," Logan snapped, "Look, I get that you can run fast and shit, but that's not gonna cut it for these guys."

"I outran them before," said Amanda, "I can do it again."

"I'm not telling Kurt that I brought his girlfriend into a war zone," Mystique said.

Now she was concerned. Amanda gave her a bitter look, but Mystique seemed unfazed.

"You have no clue what kind of people you're dealing with," she said, "What you saw at the airport was just a taste of what they're capable of doing, especially if he sent some of his higher-up friends in there, which he probably did."

"He won't trust you," hissed Amanda, "How do you expect to get him out of there if he doesn't trust you?"

"We'll improvise kid," Logan said.

He turned in his seat and gave her a sympathetic look.

"Look, I know this isn't gonna be easy," he said, "I know ya care about him, and it's difficult ta sit it out when the people ya love are concerned."

Amanda glared at him. She always thought "good cop, bad cop" was stupid whenever she saw it on the TV shows. It seemed even dumber in real life. Logan didn't seem concerned about the look she was giving him though.

"But we can't take you with us," Logan said, "We just can't. So stay in the car, an when we grab Kurt, we can bring im here and you can talk to im."

She wanted to protest, but Logan was already turning around in his seat. Mystique was also turning her attention away from Amanda, as though she could be safely ignored for now, safely counted out.

"New Salem's a small town, but it's still a town," Mystique said, "Did Chris have anything more specific?"

"Something about converging on a coffee shop on Main Street," said Logan, "Has a funny-colored awning."

"So it's a coffee shop now," Mystique muttered.

She jammed her foot on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward even more.

"I've got this," Mystique said.

Amanda doubted she did, but she remained silent. If they expected her to stay in the car when danger and death came hurtling toward the last person on Earth she cared about, then they were stupider than she thought.

She would just have to be smart about it.

* * *

Warren shoved the door to the coffee shop open, feeling disoriented. How did Kurt manage to stay standing after teleporting? Everything he'd ever eaten felt like it was trying to force its way up his throat.

He immediately caught sight of the group and stumbled over. Kurt rushed to his side, his hand on Warren's shoulder to steady him. Ororo saw him first and raised her eyebrows, although she looked more concerned than anything.

Good old Ororo, always seeing the problem for what it was.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Did you eat too much ice cream?" Jubilee asked.

Warren snorted.

"Nah," he said.

He lowered his voice so the rest of the patrons couldn't hear.

"Some guys with guns thought we'd make good target practice," he said.

Scott immediately set down his soda and glanced over Warren.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'm not injured," Warren said, "Kurt isn't either, but his teleporting powers leave something to be desired."

Kurt didn't look to happy about that comment, but Warren ignored him. They needed to get out of there fast.

"Was it isolated...or...?" asked Jean.

"Definitely or," Warren said, "We've gotta get outta here fast."

"Not sure why-?" Jubilee began.

Jean elbowed her in the ribs and then nodded at Kurt.

"Oh, right," Jubilee said, "We walked here though. I don't think that's gonna make things go any faster."

"Probably not," said Warren, "But it's either that or steal a car, and I don't have any lock picks on me right now."

"We could call the Institute," Ororo suggested.

"Too risky," said Scott, "We just need to get out of here before we do anything."

He got up, leaving his soda behind. The others followed suit and fell into a small group. Warren realized they were all forming a circle around Kurt. As the only civilian there, it was clear they would have to protect him if anything went wrong.

They had barely gotten outside the door to the coffee shop when they realized, yes, something was going to go wrong. The first shots sent several bystanders scurrying away, which was good because, on top of protecting Kurt, Warren didn't really feel like dealing with civilians.

"I'm on point!" Scott yelled, "Light 'em up!"

Warren pulled Kurt to the ground just as Jubilee sent fireworks from her fingers into the sky. It was blinding, but it was an effect they were all used to right now. Jubilee might not have the most practical power, but they'd found ways to make it work. Where there was a will, there was always a way.

The men on the ground were blinded, but shots still rang out. Warren looked up and saw there were two men on the rooftop across from the coffee shop, opening fire. He patted Kurt on the shoulder reassuringly.

"Just hang tight for a moment," he said.

He didn't wait for a response. Warren launched himself into the air, cartwheeling back and forth as he did so. It was actually easier to dodge bullets in the air, even though he knew he made a bigger target with his wings outstretched. He'd practiced it more.

Warren tackled the first man, and then used him as a shield against the second. They were clumsy and uncoordinated. Warren wondered if they'd ever actually done anything like this before, because they certainly hadn't come prepared for someone who would put up a fight.

As he succeeded in knocking both men out, Warren wondered if that was exactly what was going on. They hadn't expected whoever they were coming for to be a particularly good fighter. That would explain the half-assed nature of their abilities.

That meant they weren't coming for the X-men, which left a rather chilling option. Kurt had been right: they were coming for him. He wasn't sure why exactly they were coming for him, but Kurt had obviously known it was a possibility.

He looked down at his friend. Jean was by his side, talking to him. It suddenly struck him that, in all reality, he knew very little about his friend. He'd assumed he had family trouble but, really, his reluctance to stay at the Institute could have come from another source.

It began to sink in that, maybe, his friend wasn't all that he seemed.

"Archangel!" Scott yelled, "We need you down here!"

Putting aside his misgivings, Warren jumped off the top of the roof and glided down. Five new men had entered the scene, and they were much better marksmen than the first. A bullet nearly grazed one of his wings as he made his landing.

"Where did these guys come from?" Warren asked.

"No clue!" Ororo said.

She did a backflip into their midst, punching one of them in the face. He toppled backwards and his friend brought his gun around. She dodged it and kicked him in the stomach, making him drop the gun.

It went off, shattering a lamppost. Glass fell onto a few of the other men, and Warren rolled his eyes. These people barely knew the right way to hold a gun. It wasn't a bad thing in an opponent, but it was still rather silly.

He knelt down next to Kurt, who was looking around him in awe.

"You are...ninjas?" Kurt ventured.

Warren laughed although, surveying the scene, he could understand how Kurt came to that conclusion.

"Nah," said Warren, "Just really good at what we do."

He held out a hand and helped Kurt to his feet.

"Let's get you out of here," he said, "You shouldn't be here."

Kurt looked around at the rest of them.

"Some of zem are younger zan me," Kurt said.

"That's life," Warren said, "But we have to get going right now. These guys kinda suck as fighters, but we don't know how many there are."

He looked around.

"Not to mention we're making a mess of the town square," he said, "We're going to get detention for this for sure."

Kurt gave him an uncertain look, and Warren winced.

"Okay, that was pretty insensitive," he said, "But we do need to get going."

He looked over his shoulder.

"Hey Cyclops!" he yelled.

Scott took off his sunglasses, blasting someone into a nearby wall.

"Yeah?" he yelled back.

"I'm taking him back!" Warren shouted.

Scott put his sunglasses back on just in time to punch someone else in the throat.

"Take back-up!"

"Gotcha!" Warren yelled.

He motioned to Jubilee, who hurried over. Between his aerial attacks and her long-range capabilities, they'd been designated as each others' partners in case the group ever needed to split up for some reason. Alex and the Professor tended to think of everything.

As soon as she reached them, the three took off with Warren dragging Kurt along.

"I should teleport," he said.

"Nah," Warren said, "We're seeing ya safe home. Like I said: I don't know how many more of these guys are out there, and we don't want ya ta get waylaid when ya come up for air on the way to the Institute."

Uncertainty flashed in Kurt's eyes, and Warren laughed.

"Trust me," he said, "We've been doing this way longer than you."


	29. Chapter 29

The car screeched to a halt. Amanda nearly hit her head on the car seat in front of her, prompting her to glare at Mystique. Mystique didn't spare her a glance though, just started hurriedly unbuckling herself.

Logan hadn't bothered to wear a seat belt, and from the way he was rubbing his forehead Amanda assumed he'd smacked his head on the ceiling. Mystique yanked the car door open, grabbing a bag by her feet as she did so. It clanked and Amanda briefly wondered what was inside it.

Her car door slammed just as Logan opened his. He gave Amanda a look over his shoulder.

"Stay in here," he ordered.

Amanda didn't respond, and he didn't wait for her to do so. While she was glad they were hurrying to reach Kurt, she didn't like what that meant for him. She watched them as they hurried off, her eyes following them until they moved out of sight.

As soon as they were gone she unbuckled and turned to the trunk. Most cars had tool kits in the back, or at least she supposed they did. They always did at the Circus in case something broke down.

She found what she was looking for quickly. Amanda grabbed the pair of pliers and the screwdriver. She tapped the point of the screwdriver. The screwdriver was little more than a blunt knife and, if the proper amount of force were applied, it could be used as a weapon.

Grabbing the tools, she slithered her way up to the front. She ducked underneath the driver's car door and began to take apart the panel under the steering wheel with the screw driver.

When she was younger, one of the newer circus members had accidentally locked one of the truck's keys inside one of the lion's cages. Amanda wasn't sure how that had happened, but the ringmaster made sure he was cleaning out the cage for a week.

He'd also gone into the truck with a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. He'd made sure the children were watching because, apparently, people losing vehicle keys happened more times than he was comfortable with.

The ringmaster had taught them all how to hotwire a car in case it ever happened. It had been years ago, but Amanda was sure she could remember how to do it. It hadn't been terribly difficult for her to understand at the time.

She got the panel open and set to work. On some level she realized she was operating at auto pilot in a way she had never wanted to. She was taking tools and thinking of them as weapons, constantly looking for escape routes.

But life hadn't been normal for a very long time. She hoped that, once she found Kurt, the auto pilot could go away. Once it was gone, she could start feeling like herself again, instead of a lifeless drone.

However, she had to find him first.

* * *

Kurt felt like his life was going by in a haze. He'd thought that Warren and his friends were normal but, apparently, he'd been wrong about that. He'd also thought the men chasing them were police but, the more they fought, the more he doubted that.

They rounded a corner, only to meet more men with guns. Jubilee shot fireworks from her fingertips, causing several of the men to howl in pain as the colorful sparks burned their skin. The smell was terrible and, not for the first time that day, Kurt felt a little nauseous.

Warren turned, only to nearly get stabbed with a knife. He ducked quickly, his footwork keeping time with that of his attacker. Kurt wondered if he should intervene, but the flurry of feet and arms was too fast for him to follow. He wondered if he'd do more harm than good by interfering.

Next to him he saw Jubilee continue to fire sparks, but more people were coming around the corner. How many people had been lying in wait for him? The sheer numbers were overwhelming, and Kurt began to wonder if he were indeed the target. Murderer he might be, and he had no idea how extradition worked, but he didn't think they would send such a large force after him.

He teleported, reappearing right next to the three men. They looked surprised, and Kurt grabbed two of them. He teleported several times in the air, knowing it was enough to disorient them. With any luck, they would become more nauseous than Warren had.

Kurt deposited them on a rooftop a mile away. They were heaving and coughing, so he figured he'd done a decent job. He teleported again, just in time to get the third man as he took aim at Jubilee. Another series of teleportations left him disabled.

He returned to the square and saw Warren punch the man with the knife in the face. He grabbed the man's arm, and the sleeve fell backwards a bit. Warren's eyes widened, and then narrowed.

Warren let go of the man's arm and followed the motion up with a kick to the stomach, which dropped him. Behind him, Kurt heard a few more screams from some of the men as they were showered in sparks.

Jubilee jogged up to the two of them.

"Where did you go?" she asked.

"I vas helping," Kurt said.

"Okay, but try to stay close," said Warren, "We don't want anyone disappearing on us, okay."

Kurt nodded, and they took off again. There were more shots in the distance, and he thought of Scott, Jean and Ororo. Warren caught his expression.

"They can take care of themselves," Warren said, "We've got to get out of here."

Kurt shook his head.

"Zis ist insane," he said, "Vhere are ze police?"

Jubilee blinked.

"Ya know, that's a good question," she said.

"Whaddya mean?" asked Warren.

They turned a corner, narrowly missing a group of fleeing residents.

"Usually, when we get into these situations, we either don't contend with police because of the areas we're in, or they're crawling all over us," Jubilee said, "But we're not in an area that wouldn't have them, and they're not here. So where are they?"

Warren's face began to erode, and Kurt didn't really want to know what he was thinking. They turned another corner, and something fell on the ground in front of them. Kurt saw the smooth canister, the metal glinting in the sun.

"Flash bang!" Warren yelled.

Kurt grabbed the closest person to him and teleported. When they left the smoke he realized he'd grabbed Warren, who once again looked like he was going to be ill. Kurt frowned. Warren had withstood teleporting the first time with great aplomb, but the more Kurt did it the more it looked like it affected Warren worse than anyone he'd ever seen.

A few feet away, Jubilee was reeling, looking like she couldn't see what was in front of her. He saw her blink a few times before taking a step and tripping. She caught herself before she fell face-first, but she still looked confused.

Around ten people poured into the area, and Kurt became aware of some people on the roof. With Warren and Jubilee reeling, Kurt made a snap decision.

"Alright!" he yelled.

The men paused, and Kurt tentatively put his hands up. Warren grabbed his shoulder, looking unsteady.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Surrendering," Kurt replied, "Zey vill leave you alone if I turn myself in."

It wasn't something he wanted to do, not by any means. He thought of his uncle back at Westchester, what he would think if he heard this had happened to Kurt. He thought of Amanda, wherever she was, the way she hoped they would be reunited.

"Kurt," Warren said, "I know these types of assholes. Surrendering won't help."

One of the men lowered their gun slightly.

"Our orders were to bring you in alive, if possible," he said, "Are you going to give us any trouble?"

Kurt shook his head, and Warren's grip on his shoulder tightened.

"Nein," Kurt said.

The man continued to look at him.

"It means no," Warren snapped.

The man nodded quickly.

"Then step away from the rest of the freaks," he said.

Kurt swallowed and did so. Warren's hand fell away from his shoulder, and he wondered what his friend was thinking. His lungs began to freeze up as he stepped forward, his mind again returning to his uncle and Amanda.

He was only a few steps away from the man.

"Alright then," the man said, "Let's-"

A bullet struck the man in the shoulder, making him drop his gun and cry out. Kurt's head whipped toward the direction of the shot, just as a man barreled into the area. Kurt saw the flash of what looked like daggers on his hand, and then blood started flying.

Kurt teleported away from the mess and to Jubilee's side. The man was in the thick of the fight, and there were still shots going off. Kurt felt more confused than ever, but he did know one thing: he did not want to be there anymore.

He helped Jubilee up as she blinked away the effects of the flash bang.

"I'm having difficulty hearing," she murmured, "I can barely see."

"I haf got you," Kurt said.

He turned his head and saw Warren run up to him. A body fell in front of them, large slash marks across its chest.

"Time to leave," Warren said.

"Ja, I zink so," Kurt said.

Supporting Jubilee, the three began to flee the area. Kurt's heart was pounding, reaching a fever pitch. He wasn't sure how many more surprises he could take.

"Who were those guys?" asked Warren.

"I haf no idea," Kurt said.

"Well neither do I," Warren said, "I mean, I'm thinking that guy was mutant, but I don't know where the hell the shooter came from. I mean, seriously! I think I know who the other guys are though."

"Ja?" asked Kurt.

"Yeah, one of those assholes had a tattoo on his arm," said Warren.

He shook his head.

"What did you do to get the attention of the Friends of Humanity?" he asked.

"Ze vhat?" asked Kurt.

Warren gave him a disbelieving look, then shook his head.

"I'll tell you later," he said.

"FOH?" Jubilee moaned, "Okay, I have my sight and my hearing back right now, but I kinda wish I didn't if I'm gonna see their ugly mugs."

"Yeah, me neither," agreed Warren, "But for right now, we need to concentrate on-"

Four more men appeared at the other end of the alley, levelling their guns.

"Sonuvabitch!" Warren said.

Kurt got ready to teleport, regardless of whether or not it would sit right with Warren. However, before he could, he heard the sound of an engine. The men must have heard it too, because they looked to their left.

A car barreled into them, knocking them every which way. Two of them managed to get out of the way, but Jubilee sent a shower of sparks their way. Their screams told Kurt that they weren't going to be getting up again any time soon.

The car stopped abruptly and Kurt stared at it, dumbfounded. The door to the driver's side opened, and he saw a face he had firmly believed, ever since he was a child, belonged to an angel.

"You coming?" Amanda asked breathlessly.

Without a word, Kurt shoved Jubilee and Warren toward the car. He knew they were both wondering what was going on, but Kurt knew there was no point in asking questions. Besides, if she asked, he'd follow her anywhere.


	30. Chapter 30

The car screeched around the corner, and Warren quickly pointed out directions. The blonde girl wasn't asking too many questions. As soon as Kurt said they needed to help other people, she'd nodded briefly and stomped on the gas pedal.

So far, Warren actually liked her. Besides having given them a method of transportation, she didn't seem particularly phased at the idea of mowing people down. It wasn't a good thing really, but she was unflinching. Most of the time the FOH operatives jumped out of the way. Most of the time.

Warren could also appreciate that she wasn't asking questions because, frankly, he had no answers. He did quickly notice the look of awe and hope Kurt was giving her though, and Warren remembered Kurt telling him he had a girlfriend in Germany.

So, it looked like the girlfriend had come to America. Great. Maybe they could all have a party. He had no idea why, but he felt giddy when he thought about that. Parties in the middle of all this shit. It made about as much sense as anything else that had happened that day.

Because, and he had to be honest, this was the most unusual mission he'd ever been on as part of the X-men. Oh sure, they'd accidentally stumbled on things that were bigger than themselves sometimes. But at least they knew why they were there. Here, no one seemed to know what was going on.

She turned a corner sharply, and Warren almost clipped his head against the side of the door.

"Careful," he muttered.

"You should probably wear a seatbelt," she replied.

Warren felt like there was a snappy comeback somewhere he could use, but he decided not to piss off the driver. He kept giving her instructions until she turned a corner, where Jean had just sent a trash can flying from one side of the plaza into one of the men.

It seemed like a lot of the gunmen had chosen this particular point to converge on, perhaps because of the amount of stopping power Ororo, Jean and Scott had. the air smelt like fire and ozone, so he knew Scott and Ororo had been hard at work.

"Stop here," Warren said.

The blonde jammed her foot on the brake and, once more, Warren nearly clipped his head. This time he managed to brace his arms against the door at the last moment, so he wasn't too jarred afterwards.

Reaching over, Warren opened the door to the car.

"Guys!" he yelled.

Scott immediately caught sight of him and motioned to the girls. Again, Warren was grateful no one decided to ask questions. They ran up to the car and jumped in, with Scott sending one last beam at their pursuers.

The car hadn't really been built for so many people. But they all jammed themselves in, with Kurt and Jubilee moving as far in as they could to make room. Warren felt Ororo accidentally elbow him in the ribs as she got in.

The blonde girl didn't even wait for them to close the door before she began driving. Ororo and Scott struggled to close the door as the blonde girl took them around the corner. Warren realized he would have to give a few more directions before the day was out, because they really needed to get to Westchester.

"Take the northbound road outta here," Warren said, pushing Ororo to one side slightly so he could be heard.

Again, the girl didn't say anything, just complied. Warren sat back and buckled in. The road to the Institute wasn't paved very well, and he'd already had enough close calls that day. Considering the circumstances, it might be best to buckle up.

"Just keep driving down this road at full throttle," Warren said.

He looked over his shoulder.

"Anyone following us?" he asked.

Jean shook her head.

"I think there were at first, but there was some gunfire," she said, "I don't know who shot them though."

Warren thought back to that small alley where Kurt had nearly given himself up.

"Someone gave us covering fire a little while back too," he said.

"Oh."

His eyes flickered up to the front, where the blonde girl was looking straight ahead, her face a little guilty but also thoughtful.

"Meaning?" demanded Warren.

"Not much," the girl said.

"Who are you again?" asked Ororo.

"That's Amanda," Kurt said softly.

"Great, Amanda," Ororo said, "And Amanda is-"

"I think we can wait for a little while on that one," Warren said loudly, "I think the important thing right now is getting back to the Institute and contacting the Professor and everyone as soon as possible."

Ororo gave him an odd look, but Warren didn't really feel like explaining who Amanda was at the moment. He hoped no one pushed it.

"Warren's right," Scott said, "This was an attack in our backyard, and it was a very open one. Anyone know what group it was?"

"I saw an FOH tattoo," offered Warren.

"Well, great," Scott said.

He let out a frustrated sigh.

"This means they're getting bolder," he said, "Why were they even there?"

Warren glanced quickly at Kurt.

"I think we'd better wait to talk about that one," he said, "Just for a little while anyway."

It might not have been the smartest move but, for some reason, Warren really didn't feel like discussing this in a car ride to the Institute. Not when there were apparently FOH scumbags hunting his newest friend.

* * *

Logan looked at the road after town, his jaw tight with fury. Mystique shouldered her sniper rifle and walked up, its duffel bag hanging empty in her other hand.

"She took the car," he said.

"You told her to stay in it," Mystique said.

Logan's jaw tightened further.

"She took the kid too," he said.

"I think we both saw that one coming," Mystique said bitterly.

She dropped the duffel bag and, slowly, began taking apart the sniper rifle. If they had lost Amanda earlier, she would've been furious. Instead a strange sense of calm was washing over her. With the very thing she'd been dreading for years suddenly in front of her, with nothing she could do to avoid it, resigning herself to the inevitable seemed to be the only thing she could do.

"Did you know she knew how to do that?" Logan asked.

"Margali was an interesting individual," said Mystique, taking the barrel off the gun, "I suppose it makes sense she'd know how to do unexpected things."

Logan growled.

"We underestimated her," Mystique said, "It hardly matters now though."

"And why is that?" snapped Logan, "Because last I checked, we still have a kid out there who's gonna get himself killed. And now he's gonna know we're here."

"Yes, he is," Mystique said.

She finished disassembling her sniper rifle and knelt down by her duffel bag.

"But we're going to have back-up," she said.

"Wade an Chris won't be here for another day," Logan said.

"True, but it looks like my brother is still training teenagers how to fight," she said, "They looked like they could hold their own pretty well."

Logan turned to her. She could see her serenity was irritating him. No matter. Whether or not he saw it, whether or not he understood it, it was all over for her. There was no running from this, not if she wanted to save her son's life.

The son she had left on the doorstep of her lover's childhood friend. Mystique swallowed and zipped the bag up.

"What the hell are ya suggesting?" he asked.

"I suggest we do the only thing we can do at this point, car or no car," she said.

She shouldered her duffel bag and stood up.

"We go to Westchester."

* * *

Kurt still felt dazed from the events of the afternoon. He had a long list of questions he desperately needed answers for. He wanted to scream, because this was what he'd been afraid of when he'd left the safe walls of the Institute.

He also wanted to climb into the front and gather Amanda in his arms, never let her go. But he couldn't. Not only was she driving, but Scott had clambered up to the passenger's seat. He'd mentioned something about keying in the gate code when they got close.

Kurt closed his eyes. He was going to have to tell his uncle about what had happened. His uncle already knew about him and Stefan, true enough, but he didn't know that so many people were chasing him. It wasn't safe for him to be at a school with so many children.

But at the same time, he'd just seen Warren and his friend fight off gunmen. There was definitely something about the school that Kurt was missing, some information he wasn't privy to.

As the gates opened, he shifted slightly. He couldn't do so very much, considering that, if he did, he would likely end up hitting someone. Amanda's car was built like a tank, but it didn't have much seating room. She probably hadn't expected to cart around so many people though.

When the car pulled up to the front, Alex and his uncle were waiting for them. Warren yanked open the car door and everyone began filing out. Alex began firing off rapid questions about what had happened in the town. Kurt wasn't sure how he knew what had transpired, but, apparently, news travelled fast.

His uncle was silent, his concerned eyes meeting his. Feeling limp, Kurt pulled himself out of the car. Kurt managed to give him a weak grin, to show him he was uninjured. He didn't think he could do anything else. He was exhausted, and the only thing that seemed attractive was going back to his room and crawling into bed. Kurt just felt so weak.

And then Amanda came around from the passenger's side. Her eyes were sharp, but not frightened. She looked so tense, so alert, as if she could snap at any moment and shatter into a million sharp pieces.

But she walked toward him, her eyes shining. One of her hands gingerly touched his cheek. Kurt took a shuddering breath. He'd known he'd missed her, missed her voice, her strength, her confidence, her touch, and he'd thought he'd known how much he'd missed them.

Now he realized he'd had no idea.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

Kurt looked at her. It was not a good question to ask. In the past few months, his life had been shattered and then somehow put back together, only to be shattered once more. He'd lived so much of his life hoping that violence would pass him by, that he could live his life in peace. That desire hadn't been answered.

But he could see in her eyes she knew that. The same thing had happened to her, and Kurt had the feeling she hadn't had as much help as he had. It was impossible that she should be there, looking at him with such love and tenderness, instead of in Germany. But she was there.

Despite everything that had had happened, everything that had gone wrong, he knew God's hand was in this somewhere. And, as he looked at her, for a moment, everything made sense. Everything was peaceful for that moment, and the confusion seemed to melt away. He decided the idea he'd had in the car was the right one.

Without a word, Kurt approached and pulled her into his arms. She was tense, just like he'd thought, but he felt her melt, felt her arms wrap around his back. Her fingernails dug into the flesh there and, for the first time in months, Kurt felt like there was truly no reason to hide any more.

And so he answered, even if it wasn't completely truthful.

"Now I am," he murmured.


	31. Chapter 31

Charles watched as Kurt embraced the blonde girl. Next to him Alex was still interrogating the X-men, trying to figure out what had happened in the town. They'd gotten a call from their contact in the town, they had a few of them in case their students ever got into trouble, not that long ago, telling them there was a shootout.

They'd been getting ready to set out after them when the security system registered Scott punching in his entry code. Charles didn't understand where they had gotten the car from, but he'd been so eager to see if Kurt was alright that he had decided to ask later.

He'd wanted to make sure he was alright, even momentarily turning aside Alex's rapid fire questions. Everyone had their backs turned to Kurt, or just the side of their face in Alex's case, so few people had noticed the young woman who had walked up to Kurt and touched his face.

Then the two had embraced, and Charles felt his face soften. Kurt had spoken often of Amanda, of her golden hair, her strength, courage and loyalty, but Charles hadn't expected to see her for another several months.

The need for the two of them to be in each others' presence seemed very palpable, so Charles had quietly turned his attention back to his other students. He would let them take comfort from each other, and he would try to solve what problems he could.

"-and then they started shooting at us," Warren said, "So Kurt and I split and I brought him back to the coffee shop. Shit got weird from there."

"Be more descriptive," said Alex.

"We split into two groups to try and evacuate Kurt," said Scott, "Normal teams. Jubilee and Warren. The rest of us tried to cut them off, but they ran into more. Which is when they came across the girl with the car, or at least I believe so."

Charles could tell Alex was about to turn to ask Amanda a question, but Charles coughed to interrupt. He could give his nephew a few more minutes of faux privacy.

"Do you know who your attackers were?" asked Charles.

"One of them had an FOH tattoo," Warren said.

He stiffened. The FOH had been a growing problem for years, starting out with hate speech and graduating to hate crimes. They were sneaky though, which made them a much more difficult threat than most of the anti-mutant groups they fought. The X-men had dealt with them in a few undercover missions in the past, and they thought they had gotten their measure.

But if they were attacking people in broad daylight, then they had obviously gotten bolder as time went on. The fact that they had come to his very doorstep with their violence was troubling. There was no way they could know what the school was, could they?

From the look on Alex's face, he was obviously having similar thoughts. Charles brushed against his mind.

 _Alex?_

 _Requesting permission to go to their headquarters and wipe them out,_ Alex thought.

It didn't surprise him that Alex's first thoughts would be ones of retribution. It wasn't a matter of revenge, Charles would be worried if it was, but Alex thought in battlefield tactics. You didn't let an attack this personal go unanswered in his mind unless you had a bigger game plan.

Although he would never say this aloud, in some ways Alex reminded him of Erik.

 _No._

 _They took the fight to our doorstep,_ Alex thought, _Let me take it to theirs._

 _Alex, that would be suicidal at this point_ , Charles thought.

 _Yeah, for them._

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kurt had released Amanda, but their hands were still entwined.

"Let's not discuss this out here in the open," he said, "Let's go inside. I'll have Hank put us on lockdown and cancel this afternoon's extracurricular activities, just in case. We don't know what's coming, but it's best to err on the side of caution."

He closed his eyes.

 _Hank,_ _we had a threat in New Salem,_ he thought, _Take the necessary precautions._

 _Got it. What happened?_

 _I'll tell you more later_ , Charles thought.

He opened his eyes again.

"Now," he said, "I want you all to go to the biohazard lab and discuss what happened and any extra precautions that need to be taken."

He gestured to Alex, who led the way inside the building. Warren looked over his shoulder at Kurt, but Charles made a motion with his hand for him to join the others. He was going to have to talk to Kurt in private.

When the rest had followed Alex, Charles turned to Kurt and Amanda.

"Kurt," Charles said, "Would you like to introduce me to this lovely young woman?"

Kurt gave a sheepish smile, but Amanda's expression didn't flicker. Charles got the feeling he was being assessed, as though the danger he posed was being silently calculated in the eyes of the young woman holding his nephew's hand.

It was the expression of someone who had just started being hounded and hurt. Charles quickly began looking at her for other signs, and saw things Kurt might not have noticed. He saw the slight shadows under her eyes, the slightly too-big clothes.

In short, he saw all the signs of someone whose life had been absolute hell for the past few days.

"Zis is Amanda," Kurt said, "Amanda, zis ist mien uncle, Charles."

Charles held out his hand. Amanda cautiously took it, and Charles saw something flicker momentarily in her eyes. He recognized the bone-crushing exhaustion. He'd seen it in the eyes of many people who had walked into the Institute over the last years.

"I'm pleased to meet you," Charles said kindly, "Please know that anyone Kurt cares about will be safe here."

The exhaustion flickered again, and Charles saw something else. It was even briefer than the exhaustion he'd seen, but it was there nonetheless. It was hope, hope that she was actually going to be safe here now.

"Unfortunately we'll need to discuss what happened," Charles said softly, "But I thought it would be best if we do that more privately."

Amanda glanced back at the car.

"The people I stole that from are going to want it back," she said.

Kurt blinked at her, surprised. Charles took it in stride.

"The FOH might have made it to New Salem, but I can safely say that as long as myself and at least two faculty members are here no one will ever come to any harm inside these walls," Charles said, "And we're fully staffed today."

"I didn't take it from the FOH," Amanda said.

Charles looked at her for another moment.

"Let's go into my office," he said.

She nodded, and Charles wheeled himself through the door. It was turning out to be a rather interesting day.

* * *

"We can trust him?" Amanda asked.

She kept her voice as low as possible. Kurt's uncle seemed like a nice man, and she didn't want to upset him. However, he was still a stranger and, in the past week or so, Amanda had had too many unpleasant encounters with strangers.

"Ja," Kurt said.

His voice was firm and confident. Amanda let some of her anxiety go, but not all of it. She'd been on high alert for the last two weeks, and had been carrying herself like a statue for at least a month. She wasn't going to start letting go until she was completely confident everything would be alright.

That could be awhile until she felt that way though. Having Kurt safely in her arms had gone a long way toward releasing some of the tension she was feeling, but not all of it. There was still a weight on her chest, pushing her down and making it difficult to keep moving.

Her eyes roved over the sumptuous surroundings as they entered, and she gripped Kurt's hand tighter. Every day it felt like she was taking some strange and bizarre journey down the rabbit hole. It was coming to the point where she thought nothing would surprise her.

It didn't even surprise her that Mystique's brother was such a kind man. At this point, anything made sense. He'd managed to keep Kurt safe this long, and he appeared to have a level head. Perhaps they could benefit from someone like that, considering everything that was going on.

Charles wheeled into his study and got behind his desk. Kurt used his tail to shut the door, and then gestured to a sofa. Amanda sat down in it, and Kurt sat down next to her. A deep tiredness seeped into her, but it wasn't time to rest yet.

"Now," Charles said, "please tell me what happened."

Amanda hesitated. While the things that had happened to her made perfect sense, given the way everything was going, she knew it would sound crazy to most people. Kurt squeezed her hand.

"You can trust him," he whispered.

Amanda swallowed.

"For the past month or so I've been working as an airline stewardess," she said, "On my last flight, I got off the plane and was stopped by about five men."

Kurt's grip on her arm tightened.

"They wanted to know about Kurt," Amanda said, "I managed to get away from them, but they pursued me into an alley."

Again, Kurt increased his grip on her hand. Amanda calmly put her other hand on top of his. She had to let him know everything was alright.

"But they were stopped by a group of people," she said, "I'd never seen any of them before, but they managed to fight them off. I tried to run, but one of them grabbed me and knocked me out."

"Vhat?" Kurt asked.

His voice sounded panicked. She gave him what she hoped was a comforting smile.

"I'm fine," she said.

She looked back at Charles, whose expression was unreadable. He seemed to be carefully considering everything she had to say.

"They told me people were hunting Kurt," she said, "The name FOH did come up, but I hadn't heard of them. They told me they were an American group."

"Sadly, yes," Charles said, "Their propaganda is finding something of an audience here."

"I haf never heard of zem eizer," Kurt said, sounding both confused and worried, "Vhat vould zey vant vith me?"

"They weren't very clear on that one," said Amanda, "Just that..."

She swallowed.

"Just that they were trying to kill you," she said.

Alarm creased Charles's face, but Kurt didn't squeeze her hand again. Was he so numbed by all the danger that this didn't matter? Amanda wasn't sure she wanted to find out. It had felt like a dagger to her heart when she realized Mystique was telling the truth.

Oh God. She'd have to mention that.

"I told them where Kurt was, or where he was supposed to be, and we were headed there when they heard something was happening in New Salem," Amanda said, "So they took a detour. They told me to stay in the car, but I wasn't sure I trusted them. So I hotwired it and went looking for Kurt."

"You found me," Kurt said.

He gave her another squeeze, but this time it was more gentle. She swallowed again, wishing she didn't have to say what was coming next.

"But...the reason I trusted them in the first place," Amanda said, "The reason I..."

She looked away from Charles and at Kurt. Her free hand left the top of his and touched his face gently. He looked at her in surprise.

"The reason I trusted them in the first place was because...because..." she said.

"Ja?" asked Kurt.

Amanda swallowed for the third and last time, and forced herself to spit it out.

"Was because they were being led by your mother," she said.


	32. Chapter 32

Kurt felt like he couldn't breathe. Amanda was watching him intently, as though wishing for some sort of sign that she had done the right thing.

"Are you sure?" asked Charles softly.

Amanda nodded, her eyes fixed on Kurt.

"She told me," Amanda said.

She reached out and touched Kurt's face. Her fingertips were cool to the touch and, coupled with the knowledge of his mother's proximity, made him shiver.

"But it was more than that," Amanda said, "She looked like you Kurt. She looked almost exactly like you, but her hair was red."

A lump formed in his throat. When he was younger, he used to wonder what his parents looked like. He'd wondered if they'd had tails and three fingers like him, if they'd been able to teleport. Were they blue? Were their eyes yellow?

He'd tried to sketch them in his mind, these people whom he'd never known and, he believed, he never would. Kurt had spent nights lying awake, daydreaming about them when he was a child. What had they been like? What had induced them to abandon him, to leave him with another family?

When he got older and learned more about mutants, he'd wondered if his parents had been completely normal. Had they looked just like anyone on the street? Was it possible that he'd passed them by one day, unaware that they were the people who'd given him life?

But no. Now he knew what his mother looked like. Charles had mentioned it before but, somehow, having Amanda say it seemed more real. The last time Charles had seen her had been years ago. Amanda had seen her that day.

And yes, there was that. His mother was somewhere in the vicinity. He might have just missed her when they were fighting in the town. Had she seen him down there, known he was struggling? What had she felt when she saw the child she'd left behind so many years ago?

"Was she alone?" Charles asked.

His voice had a plaintive note in it. Yes, Charles missed his sister. No matter how she had wronged him, he missed his sister. Kurt wanted to tell Charles that he wasn't alone in this drowning feeling, that it was crashing over both of them.

But he couldn't.

"No," Amanda said, her eyes turning briefly to Charles, "I...there were three men with her. I didn't see two of them very often, but they kept calling them. I think their names were Chris and Wade."

Charles's forehead crinkled. He didn't know who they were.

"But the one who was with her was called Logan," Amanda said.

His uncle started then, his eyes widening. Even through the haze enveloping his mind, Kurt knew that.

"Do you know him?" Amanda asked.

And Amanda knew it too. She was always so sharp.

"Yes," said Charles, "I...he's not a bad man, but he does have some rather unusual methods."

"He was the one who stopped me when I was running away," Amanda said, "Do you think..."

She bit her lip. The little gesture gave Kurt some clarity. It had been so long since he'd seen that.

"Do you think I should have trusted them?" asked Amanda, "I didn't...I...she...I just wanted to know he was alright."

Charles paused, clearly weighing his words carefully.

"I think you did what you thought you had to do," he said, "There were too many variables that you didn't know and, in any case, everyone is safe. We'll have to content ourselves with that."

Amanda looked a little troubled, and as Kurt blinked, he noticed something. He'd been too wrapped up in the knowledge that she was there to notice the tightness in her form, the fear and nerves in every inch of her face. It hadn't been as obvious a moment before, but, as she admitted the possibility of a mistake, he realized she looked as though she could shatter at any moment.

Shame flooded him. He realized then that, for the last month, she had been forced to do the one thing Kurt hadn't: get on with her life. After learning her brother was dead by his hand, she had helped him escape to another country. Kurt didn't think she received much support from her mother, not when she was in such a state. She said she'd been working, forcing herself to go out and appear as though everything was fine.

And then, just when she'd seemed to have a plan, she'd been all-but kidnapped. He'd realized Amanda had difficulty trusting Charles, but she'd always been cautious. However, Kurt began to wonder if it wasn't something else that was bubbling beneath the surface.

In his worry for Amanda, Kurt felt his worries about his mother sweep away. Yes, it was something that would have to be dealt with. Yes, it hurt and, yes, he knew it would hurt more. Many questions still needed to be answered, and none of them were easy ones.

But Amanda was here, the woman he loved, the woman who had risked everything to save him and then to be with him. She looked tired, on edge and, after she had taken care of him for so long, the least he could do was take care of her now.

"Uncle?" asked Kurt.

"Yes?"

"I vas vondering," Kurt said.

He cleared his throat.

"Is zere anyzing else you need to talk to us about?" asked Kurt, "It has been a...very unusual day und..."

His uncle gave him an understanding look

"No," he said, "The two of you can go. I'm going to need to talk to Alex to see what we need to do next. Him and Hank. We'll tell you what we decide."

Charles gave Amanda a kind look. Kurt wondered if he'd noticed this sooner than he had and felt a mixture of pride and guilt. He was proud because his uncle was such a good man, good enough to know when others needed time to rest.

He was ashamed because he said he loved Amanda and had been too wrapped up in himself to realize what she was going through.

"But know that you are safe here," Charles said, "No harm will come to you while you are under my roof: I promise you that."

Amanda nodded, but she didn't look entirely convinced. Kurt thought about his room on the next floor, and put his free hand on her shoulder.

"Danke," he said, "Ve vill be upstairs. I zink ve need to rest."

Charles nodded again. Amanda looked vaguely puzzled, but Kurt teleported her before she could say anything. When the smoke cleared they were inside his room and Amanda, as usual, was coughing slightly.

"It's been a while since you did that," she murmured.

"Yes," Kurt said, slipping into German, "I've missed you."

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her head rested on his shoulder, and Kurt let out a long breath. She was here, safe in his arms. He was safe. The world outside was a difficult place but, as always, they could find some sanity between the two of them.

They'd been able to do it time and time again. The first time someone had called him a freak, she'd held his hand to let him know that she didn't agree. When Margali said she didn't approve of them, Amanda had held him that night and told him she knew her own heart better than anyone.

While this was more difficult, Kurt was sure they could conjure up some security, even if it was just the illusion of it.

"You need to go to sleep," Kurt said.

"I just got here," she muttered.

Kurt laughed.

"You look like you're going to pass out at any moment angel," Kurt said.

She looked blearily up at him. He could see the spark of an argument in her eyes, but she didn't protest as Kurt led her to the bed and pulled her down onto it. She must have been as tired as he thought, probably more so.

Her head found the crook of his neck. Amanda's warm breath tickled his skin, and he sighed.

"I thought of you often," he said.

"Me too," Amanda said, "You were all..."

She trailed off and, for a brief moment, Kurt wondered if she'd gone to sleep. However, she let out another deep breath.

"You know," she said, "When I was...I have something to confess."

Kurt cocked his head.

"What?" he asked.

"When I was coming up here," she said, "I was...I was actually rather rude to your mother. About why she left you."

He froze, caught somewhere between a chuckle and a sinking sensation in his stomach. It was so like Amanda to not hold back any punches, to be honest and blunt with someone. The fact that person had wronged someone she cared about would have only given her a better incentive.

"She told me I should be grateful, since I only met you because she left you with my mother," Amanda said, "And do you know what I said back?"

"Probably something biting," Kurt said.

He hadn't been trying to be funny, but Amanda chuckled.

"I told her we would've found a way to be together anyway," Amanda said, "I said that I think God wants us to be together."

Kurt's heart swelled. When he was in his early teens, he'd looked at Amanda as though she were an angel who had been sent down to earth to mingle with mortals. He'd only just started to figure out what love was, that what he was feeling for her wasn't just a passing thought.

And with that, he began to watch her closely. When they'd held hands on the trapeze, he'd often found himself comparing their skin tones. Her skin was light, but not pale. It was bright in a way, vibrant and full of life. His dark blue skin had looked like night swallowing the sun. It had led to years of consoling himself over the fact that he was only her friend, a dreadful illusion that was shattered one night when she pressed her lips to his.

She rolled onto her side and kissed him, her warm, smooth lips meeting his rough ones. He reached up and buried his fingers in her hair. It was so easy to just lose himself in her touch, in the way she seemed to be a safe harbor in any storm.

Amanda pulled away and moved so that each leg was on either side of Kurt, her head bowed so that her forehead nearly touched his. Her hair acted as a curtain, giving them a strange kind of extra privacy, a room all to themselves surrounded by shimmering gold.

"I love you Kurt," she said, "Please don't forget that."

He smiled softly, once again thinking of their first kiss. It had happened almost the same way, and he had no doubt she was trying to replicate that now. It reminded him of when life was simple, when the biggest problem was wondering whether or not she loved him.

Now, the answer to that was written in his heart.

"I love you too," he said.

She smiled and kissed him softly once more before resting her head just under his chin. He wrapped both of his arms around her and closed his eyes. Yes, things might be taking a turn for the worse outside the Institute. His life was still in danger and there was so much he didn't understand.

But, once again, they had found sanity together. And that was all that mattered at the moment.


	33. Chapter 33

"So, what's our move?" Alex asked.

Charles sighed and rubbed his forehead. He'd been asking himself that ever since Amanda said Raven was involved. If she was in some kind of trouble, why hadn't she come to him? Why did she never come to him when she needed help?

He hadn't thought she hated him that much.

"I'm not sure we have a move at this point," Hank said, "It sounds like the FOH cleared out of New Salem pretty quickly after Scott and the rest left. We can't risk going after them without leaving the school undefended."

"Yeah, and now I've got five X-men downstairs who think an FOH invasion of the school is coming any minute," Alex said, "You try telling them to calm down when they're imagining all their friends being gunned down."

At least that was one fear he could safely dispel.

"The FOH doesn't know about the school," Charles said, "Amanda's story makes it fairly clear that they were only there for Kurt. The X-men being there was a coincidence, although a fortunate one. I'm not sure my nephew would have made it out of the town alive if not for them."

"Should we tell them that?" asked Hank, "We don't even know why they were looking for him."

Charles steepled his fingers and bowed his head, deep in thought.

"It's incomplete information, but they will need to know it," Charles said, "The FOH will be looking at where he went next, and it's likely they'll find out it's here. We have no idea why they're after him, only that they are."

He shook his head.

"Again, it's an incomplete record of information, but it's all we have to go on right now," Charles said.

Alex rolled his eyes and leaned up against a wall.

"This whole thing is super fishy to me," said Alex, "Why would the FOH be so desperate to kill one mutant? I know they want us all dead, but this hyperfocus thing is pretty new to them."

"Well…maybe…" Hank said.

"Maybe what?" asked Alex.

Hank hesitated, which was a giveaway in and of itself. At least in this situation. It was always so difficult for him to say Raven's name.

"It is possible that Raven did something to them and they're going after Kurt for revenge," Charles said quietly, "The thought had crossed my mind and, given the how she is his only known connection to this, also a likelihood."

"It would explain how she found out this was happening," Hank mumbled.

"And I'm not disputing that fact," Charles said, "But, even if that's not the case, she is involved. And, because of what Amanda told her, she knows this is where Kurt calls home now."

It was a bold statement, but Charles would like to think it was true. Kurt hadn't shown any signs of leaving up until that point.

"So she's going to be coming here?" asked Alex.

"I believe so," Charles said.

Hank looked less certain, but Raven had come this far. Amanda had told her the original plan was to actually go to the school, not New Salem. Running into the FOH had slowed that progress, but Charles did not believe it had put a halt to it.

She'd come to protect her son, and her son was still with Charles. Hopefully that would be enough for her.

"I think we'll hafta look out for the manner of her coming though," Alex said.

"Meaning?" Hank asked.

"Meaning I've seen a lot of different versions of Raven over the years," Alex said, "You guys have seen more than I have, but right now I think there's one of two ways this can go."

Charles really didn't want to have this conversation, but he didn't see any other way out of it. Besides, Alex didn't see any reason to stop. To him, all of this was a tactical discussion, the same type that would happen in a war room.

Past entanglements weren't paramount to Alex. Maybe they shouldn't be to the rest of them either.

"One," said Alex, "is she comes in like Mystique the Brotherhood member, which is actually pretty likely. She's going head to head with extremists after all and, last I checked, that won't leave her in a very good mood. If she comes in like that, I think she's gonna try and sneak into the Institute. She knows all the ins and outs of the place after all."

Charles sighed. He had to agree with that statement, as much as he disliked it. It had worried him back when the school had just been starting out, and he'd hated himself for that worry. How could he suspect his sister so much?

When the answer to that question came to him he'd had his first glass of whiskey since the night before Cuba.

"Option two is she comes in as Mystique the concerned mother," said Alex, "Now, none of us have seen that because we didn't really know that was an option. But I think it's not too different from Raven as we used to know her. If she's coming that route then I think she'll use the front door because it's faster than waiting until the cover of darkness or some bullshit. If Kurt's the only thing on her mind, she's gonna want to see he's safe as soon as possible."

Alex hesitated, and then shrugged. Charles had the feeling what he was about to say next would be about as subtle as an atomic bomb and have the same amount of impact. Again, past entanglements weren't that important to Alex.

"Whether or not he's gonna want to see her is another matter," Alex said, "But I'm afraid of the first one because, if the X-men aren't prepped, we're gonna have another firefight on our hands."

Perhaps not quite as impactful as an atomic bomb, but it did have the edge of bluntness that made Alex Alex. He did have a point though, and a good one at that.

"Then you need to go downstairs and prep the X-men for that eventuality," Charles said.

"I actually think it might be a better idea for me to go and guard the front door," said Alex, "We won't want any of the students to see her coming in. She cut kind of an iconic figure at the White House."

He frowned and scratched the back of his neck.

"Actually, it might be a good idea to evacuate most of the kids," he said.

"What?" asked Hank.

Charles felt surprised too. Alex shrugged.

"I mean, the X-men can stay," he said, "But, well, with everything going on, we might want to move them to the biology cabins up near the lake."

"Um, no," Hank said, "That's a terrible idea."

"Why is that a terrible idea?" asked Alex, "No one really knows about them, they're still within our perimeter, and if anything does go down, we can still protect them. They'll have Xuan and Sam with them, and those two might not be X-men, but sometimes I wonder why they're not."

"You're right about most of that, but that'll cause mass panic," said Hank, "We already had a lockdown drill this afternoon. What do you think they're going to do if we just suddenly do a mass exodus?"

"It's either that or we just let them stay here when the FOH comes," Alex said, "Doesn't sound like a brilliant idea to me."

"It also-" Hank began.

Charles held up his hand, and both fell silent. He pursed his lips.

"Alex, I agree with the thought behind your suggestion," he said, "We don't really know what the FOH is planning and it is likely they are going to show up at the Institute once they have regrouped."

He lowered his hand.

"But," he said, "Hank is also right. While I would prefer the children to be scared rather than harmed, I see no reason to create panic where there is no need."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Hank.

Charles smiled.

"We're going to be the ones going to the biology cabins," he said, "And, with Kurt's permission, we'll leave a trail for the FOH to follow."

Both of his former students stared at him.

"I was with you right up to that last bit," Alex said.

"I understand how it sounds," said Charles, "And I don't relish putting my nephew in danger. But the fact remains that they will be coming after him. We need to control the situation."

"Yeah, I get that," Alex said, "But...still."

He sighed.

"Yes, I know," Charles said.

"And what about Mystique?" asked Alex, "I mean, I know things are kind of, you know, but I think the more on our side the merrier."

Charles managed a smile.

"There was a third option you forgot when you were listing off possible outcomes," he said.

Alex looked slightly affronted.

"What was that?" he asked.

Feeling a strange sense of deja vu, Charles leaned back.

"We contact her."

* * *

Mystique was waiting in a room in one of New Salem's bed and breakfasts when she felt something ripple in her mind. She winced and sat down. Mystique considered calling Logan, but she remembered too late he'd gone out to meet Chris and Wade, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

 _Raven?_

And someone else's apparently.

 _Charles?_ she thought, her nerves going taut, How did you...?

She sighed.

 _Cerebro?_

 _Yes,_ Charles thought, _It's worked before. I wanted to give you your space before doing it again, but it appeared there was something of an emergency this afternoon._

 _So they made it back?_ thought Mystique.

She felt a tremor of curiosity.

 _Did you think they wouldn't?_

 _No,_ Mystique thought back.

However, believing something would happen and hearing it confirmed where two different things.

 _I believe we need to talk,_ Charles thought.

 _Not really,_ Mystique thought, _Charles, I know I've made some questionable decisions. But I'd really rather you not question me on this._

 _I'm afraid I can't do that_ , Charles thought ruefully, _But I will leave it alone for the moment. There are more important matters at hand._

 _Like what?_ asked Mystique.

 _Like the fact people tried to kill my nephew this afternoon_ , thought Charles, _Amanda told us he was the target._

 _She stole our car,_ Mystique thought.

It was a reflexive thought, void of any real venom. Under other circumstances she would have been angrier, she didn't like Amanda much, but the serenity that had come over her when she'd realized she'd have to go back to Westchester was still present.

She's a very determined young woman, Charles thought, But I'm not here to talk about her. I'm here to talk about saving someone we both care about.

Mystique buried her head in her hands.

 _Charles, I didn't want to involve you in this mess,_ Mystique thought.

 _I involved myself._

 _When you took Kurt in?_ she thought.

 _When I asked you to be my sister,_ Charles thought.

Mystique didn't respond. She didn't know how.

 _I know we've had our differences,_ Charles thought, _But we can't allow them to get in the way now. I don't know what's coming, but you obviously do. You've seen the new X-men this afternoon. They're a little rough around the edges, but they are formidable. I think we'll get more done if we work together, and that means sharing information as well as resources._

She squeezed her eyes shut.

 _Raven?_

Tears were gathering at the corners of her eyes. She'd been running for so long, so desperate to keep her brother out of what was coming.

 _Raven?_

She had no idea what to do.


	34. Chapter 34

Kurt stared at the ceiling, absently running his hands through Amanda's hair. She'd gone to sleep fairly soon after she'd settled her head on his chest. She felt a little heavy there, but he could also feel something soothing about her breath on his face, her stomach rising and falling with his.

It helped him remember that she was real. In his half-dozing state, it was difficult to distinguish between the two sometimes. He'd often fallen asleep thinking Stefan was one bed over from him, or that he was in the trailer at the circus.

But no, her breathing helped solidify her as a living, breathing creature, someone to share his life with. She was a link to his past, an anchor to his present, and a casting line for his future.

She had been the only one who had stood by him through everything. Yes, his uncle had welcomed him into his home. Kurt was grateful for that. Amanda had been there that night though, and she hadn't even batted an eye at breaking the law to help him.

That didn't make his uncle any less extraordinary. After taking in his sister's son, a woman who had abandoned him nearly two decades ago, he'd proceeded to shield him, to keep him safe in his school. He hadn't turned him over to the authorities. He hadn't told him to leave. He'd just told him to stay and that, together, they would work things out.

And that was precious. Kurt breathed in, his hand finally stilling in his love's hair. His uncle had kept him safe with his selfless love, and Amanda had come back with hers to help reinforce that feeling, to let him know people cared about him.

Although the day had been dangerous, and he knew things would get more dangerous, he thanked God for sending two such people into his life. He also prayed for their safety because, no matter what they thought or said, his life was not worth theirs.

 _Kurt?_

Kurt jolted himself fully into the land of the conscious, and Amanda sighed on his chest. He froze immediately, waiting for her to wake up and ask what was wrong. Instead she turned her head and fell right back to sleep.

She really must have been exhausted.

 _Kurt?_

 _Ja uncle_ , Kurt thought, _I vas just surprised. Zat is all._

Communicating through thoughts still seemed strange to Kurt, but he bore it and tried to take it in stride. If it was the safest and fastest way to get a message across the school, then using it couldn't be a bad thing.

 _I see._

Kurt blushed. He didn't think his uncle could see that Amanda was wrapped up in his arms at the moment, but still.

 _I need to talk to you about something,_ Charles thought, _Can you meet me downstairs?_

He looked down at Amanda. She was still using his chest as a pillow, her legs on either side of him. There was no way he could get out without waking her.

 _Umm...I'm not sure if I can,_ he thought.

The ensuing silence made Kurt wince. If his uncle suspected why that was, and Kurt firmly believed he did, then he was probably figuring things out. It was embarrassing, like the time Stefan walked in on him and Amanda making out.

A new, horrifying thought occurred to him that his uncle might think something else entirely was going on.

 _Ve are not doing anyzing_ , Kurt thought, feeling horrified, _Ve are just-_

 _No, Kurt, calm down_ , his uncle laughed, _No, I quite understand. I would have left you for a while more if I could._

 _Vhy can't you?_ Kurt asked, feeling worried.

His uncle paused, and this time it seemed more ominous.

 _There have been some developments,_ his uncle thought, _And...I'm sorry but...well._

Kurt held onto Amanda as tightly as he dared without waking her up.

 _I'm afraid that we'll have to move quickly,_ Charles thought, _We don't know where the FOH are, so we thought it might be best if we evacuated the area._

 _Zat makes sense_ , thought Kurt, _How long vill zat take? Zere are so many-_

 _It's just going to be us,_ Charles thought, _You me, Scott, Ororo, Jean, Jubilee, Warren and Alex. The FOH saw your friends today, and they'll be on the lookout for them. We need to stick together._

Amanda moved on Kurt's chest, and he felt his heart tighten.

 _You did not mention Amanda,_ he thought.

 _No,_ Charles thought, _I'm not sure if it would be a good idea to bring her._

 _I can't just leave her,_ thought Kurt desperately.

A strange feeling rippled through his mind, as though his uncle was sighing.

 _I understand what that feels like,_ Charles thought, _But you may have to._

 _But vhy?_ Kurt pleaded.

Silence greeted his inquiry and, when his uncle sent him his next thought, it was gentle.

 _Because she, unlike the rest of us, does not have to be there,_ Charles thought, _She does not have to make herself a target._

 _But vhat about Varren und ze others?_ Kurt asked, _I do not see vhy zey must be zere._

 _There are...reasons for that,_ Charles thought, _But Amanda doesn't have to be. Don't get me wrong: she's a resourceful girl, and, from what little I've seen of her, I can tell that her will is iron. But she doesn't have to be there Kurt._

Kurt let out a shuddering breath, and Amanda shifted. This time her bright blue eyes did open, and she looked at Kurt blearily.

 _You have been given a chance to get someone you love out of the crossfire,_ Charles thought, _Not all of us get that._

She blinked once and then straightened, upward, giving him a long look.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Her eyes were worried, but also fierce. Kurt felt like crying.

 _I can't do this to her again,_ he thought, _I won't._

 _Again, I understand,_ Charles thought, _But this might not be the best idea._

Amanda reached down and cupped his face.

"What's wrong?" she repeated.

He put one of his hands over hers.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" she asked.

More tears welled up in his eyes. How could she ask that question?

"For putting you through all this," he whispered.

Amanda blinked, and then smiled slowly.

"I'd do it all over again if this was the outcome," she said.

"What do you mean?" asked Kurt, "What outcome?"

She rolled her eyes and brushed some of his hair away from his forehead.

"Being here with you," she said, "You're the most important thing in my life right now Kurt, and that's worth fighting for."

He closed his eyes. The next few words were bitter and, what little will he'd had to say them was rapidly eroding. Still, he knew his uncle was right.

"It might be best if you-" he began

Amanda leaned down and kissed him, swallowing his words. When she pulled away, she planted another kiss on his forehead. .

"Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you," she whispered, "Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried."

Kurt did begin crying then, the quotation feeling like a punch in the stomach.

"May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely, if even death separates you and me," he finished.

* * *

Alex continued down the road, one hand on the steering wheel and the other tapping against the door of the car.

"Now," he said, "I want the rest of you to be quiet. Not a peep outta you. Just cover me and make sure no one tries anything."

"Do you think someone's going to try something?" asked Jubilee.

"No," Alex said, "But I don't like taking chances."

He thought his words over.

"Okay, so maybe I do," he said, "But I try to avoid the stupid ones."

"But who are these people?" asked Scott, "You haven't told us that yet, and you sure haven't told us why it's suddenly okay to leave Westchester when the FOH are in the area."

"We're working on it," Alex said.

He could practically feel his brother's eyes boring into his back, and he didn't even need to take off his goggles.

"That's not good enough Alex," Scott said.

"No, it isn't," Alex agreed, "But we're going to take a little break right now from what we do or don't think is fair, okay?"

He shook his head, realizing they were coming up on the rendezvous point.

"Instead we're going to focus on what needs to be done, and then we'll fill in the details a little later," Alex said.

The words felt like poison. He'd spent so long hating those words in his time in the military. He'd hated the idea that he couldn't ask questions about his orders, that people just assumed the people at the top weren't going to be wrong.

And now he was telling that to the X-men. At least he had a different reason.

"You'll get all the details when I get all the details," he said.

He knew Scott and the rest would have more questions, but there wasn't time for any of those. Alex stopped the car before anyone could say anything and pushed the door open. He slammed it shut behind him before any of the X-men could get any ideas about following him.

A rustling noise greeted his ears and Alex leaned up against the hood of his car. A few minutes later Mystique walked out with a big hairy guy Alex had never seen before. He took it in stride, giving him a nod and Raven a smile.

"Good to see you again," he said.

And he meant it. Even though they had never been particularly close, Alex still had yet to thank her for saving his life in Vietnam. The least he could do was be pleasant to her and help her find and protect her son.

There might be words after that though, although there was no guarantee he would speak them and not shout them. Just because he'd forgiven her personally didn't mean she could get off the hook for the fact that Charles couldn't use his legs.

She didn't respond, but that wasn't that big of a surprise. He waited patiently for her to make a motion or ask a question. Instead, she looked over her shoulder and waved. Alex sighed. He knew what that meant.

Two other men walked onto the road. One of them was wearing what looked like tactical gear, and the other had opted for black and red. It made him look like a cartoon character, which was not the right thing to be in this line of work.

"Friends of yours?" asked Alex.

"Yes," Mystique said.

Her tone was stiff, but he thought he could detect an underlying feeling of worry. Alex assumed it was related to her son, which was understandable. He'd nearly been killed and or kidnapped twice yesterday alone.

"Do you guys have your own transportation?" asked Alex.

"Yep," the man in the black and red said cheerfully, "Stole it off some rich upper-class types. And man, did they have some good shit in their car."

Alex chose to ignore that.

"Alright," he said, "Now that we're escorting you, there shouldn't be any problems. You just have to go up the driveway to the cabins on the far side of the lake. I'll go first: there are some tricky obstacles on the way."

He shrugged.

"You know the way, don't you Mystique?" he asked.

She swallowed.

"Like the back of my hand," Mystique said.


	35. Chapter 35

The drive to the biology cabins was mostly conducted in silence. Hank, whom, Kurt had introduced her to, didn't seem to know what to make out of her. He seemed distracted and troubled though, so Amanda had decided not to push it.

She still felt sleepy and, every now and then, she could feel herself nodding off. She'd woken with a start more than once, more often than not on Kurt's shoulder. She wasn't sure she could stop it without the aid of coffee. She'd been so high strung for the past few days that, having tasted a few minutes peace, her body was trying to do some catching up.

Charles looked behind him from time to time, almost as though checking on them. He didn't say anything though. Amanda had the feeling Charles was trying to give her and Kurt some space, which was good of him, even if she suspected he'd tried to get Kurt to send her away earlier.

Not that she could really blame him. Even in her current protective state she had the feeling she was a liability. More than that, she was one who didn't really have to be involved in the action. Logically, she probably should have stayed behind.

Again though, she wasn't going to allow that. She'd left Kurt once to protect him and, while she knew that had been the right thing to do in that situation, she had no desire to repeat it. Weeks of nightmares and a hellish ordeal with Kurt's mother had capped off a very difficult time.

She was thankful things hadn't gotten worse, but she was all too aware that they could do so at any moment. Quoting Ruth might have been a little extreme, but she'd meant it, and known that Kurt would understand just what she meant with those words.

A ringing noise shattered the air. Charles reached for something on the dashboard and Amanda realized it was a phone. In a car. Who knew?

"Yes," Charles said.

He cradled the phone against his neck.

"Good," he said, "We shouldn't take too much longer."

He looked at Hank, who nodded.

"We're about fifteen minutes out," Hank mumbled.

Charles gave a brief nod in return.

"Yes, we're fifteen minutes out," he said, "Less, if we're lucky. I'm counting on you to hold down the fort until we get there."

Amanda could just make out a faint noise of fuzz, obviously the distorted reply of whoever was on the other end.

"Good," Charles said.

He hung up and turned to face them.

"Before we get to the cabins, there are a few things I need to tell you," he said.

Amanda slowly inched her hand closer to Kurt's. She didn't like his uncle's tone.

"The first is why your friends from today will be there," Charles said, "No doubt you noticed they acted rather unusually given the circumstances."

Kurt nodded. Amanda vaguely remembered the teens who had piled into the car she'd stolen. Everything had become very blurry very fast, mostly because, despite the cold exterior she'd shown, she knew exactly how much danger they were all in.

"Varren vas talking about zings zat…he just seemed very calm," Kurt muttered, "Und he recognized ze FOH."

Charles nodded.

"That's because I've been teaching them how to defend themselves using their powers for the past few years so they could protect others," Charles said, "Alex has been teaching them hand to hand, but they've become rather proficient in both."

Amanda blinked. Next to her she could feel Kurt's confusion.

"So…self-defense classes or-?" he asked.

"No," Charles said, "When I said to protect others, I meant they actively go out and protect others."

Amanda felt Kurt's fingers brush up against hers.

"You…teach children to…" Kurt began.

"To fight for others," said Charles.

"But zey are-" Kurt said.

"Around your age?" asked Charles, "Yes and, in some cases, even younger."

Charles sighed.

"I didn't mean for it to be this way," he said, "It was supposed to be me out there. But things happened."

A tinge of bitterness entered his tone, the first Amanda had ever heard from the man in front of her.

"I couldn't do what needed to be done," he said, "And, as abhorrent as I found it to train teenagers, there were so few others who were willing to fight."

He sighed again.

"I tell you this only because it looks like they're going to be fighting again soon," Charles said, "And I know you're going to be there, and I know you're going to see. It's a path they chose for themselves."

Kurt gave his uncle a miserable look. Amanda had a fair idea of what was going on in his head. She'd lived around him for long enough to know what certain expressions meant, especially when Kurt was in an unhappy mood.

In short, he didn't want to believe his uncle was doing what he said he was. Kurt wasn't a pacifist by any means, and he knew how to defend himself if it came to it. But he hadn't been trained to actively go out and seek trouble.

But she could tell he could also see his uncle's point of view. Amanda could see it too, especially the part about so few others being willing to fight. Not one member of the mob who'd nearly killed Kurt had been brave enough to go against the grain.

She'd have given anything for someone to come and help them that night, but help hadn't come. They had been left to shift for themselves, and sometimes Amanda still wasn't sure if she could've handled the situation any better. They were alive, yes, and no one was in prison, but she still wondered.

Now she wondered what would have happened if Charles's students had been there, if that night could have gone very differently.

"Vhat is the other thing?" Kurt asked quietly.

Amanda felt a little annoyed, mostly because she didn't want Kurt to change the subject. These were things that needed to be discussed and, if he had a problem with what his uncle was doing, he needed to come out and say it now. She didn't know when or if there would be another time for explanations.

But she felt his hand squeeze hers and she sighed inwardly. They had both been under a lot of strain lately, and it would be unrealistic and quite cruel to demand that he do everything right now. She wasn't even sure if he'd been able to get any sleep when she did.

She looked up, and she saw Charles was looking nervous. That wasn't good.

"When we get there," Charles said, "your mother's going to be there."

* * *

Kurt's grip on her hand tightened so much and so suddenly she thought she might scream.

Alex looked at the group. His X-men were staying quiet, probably so they could get more orders on how to proceed with the strangers in front of them. It was good, especially since he himself had no idea what he was supposed to do with these guys.

Yes, Charles had explained the plan, but there were several parts of it that were supposed to be handled by Charles and Charles alone. Charles rarely sacrificed logic for expediency though, so he figured he had a pretty good idea of what he was doing.

That didn't mean it wasn't awkward to sit in the biggest room in the main cabin staring at each other. Alex fervently wished Charles would hurry up and get there, even if it did mean having another can of worms come out.

After all, he figured this was the first time Kurt was going to meet his mother. That wasn't something he wanted to be around for. And, since he wasn't Mystique's father, lover, or brother, he didn't have to be.

All he had to do was concern himself with the weirdos Mystique had brought a long. The really hairy guy seemed familiar, but he wasn't sure where from. He actually kind of reminded Alex of some of the more hardcore marines he'd come across in Vietnam. Maybe he'd been in the military too.

The jumpy guy, who was apparently called Chris, was a little irritating. Alex didn't like the way he kept looking at the different electronic devices in the room, almost as though he were measuring them. It was always a good idea to case your environment, he'd taught all of his students that, it was getting out of hand.

The one that really made him wary was the guy with the mask. He hadn't introduced himself, but he looked prett Like the others, it was clear he had tactical gear and was trained in some of the more aggressive forms of combat. That much about him made sense.

What didn't make sense was his inability to shut up. Alex had the feeling he was going to go insane if he had to listen to his yammering for another five minutes and, from his brother's tic and the way Warren was picking at his nails, Alex knew he wasn't the only one.

"-and she's like, really ugly," he said, "Super ugly. So I said to her-"

"Don't care," Alex said, "I really, really don't-"

"Aw, come on," he said, "It's gonna be fun. I'm the plucky comic relief. You've gotta have one of those in every good fanfic."

"What?" asked Alex.

"Ah, that one was wasted on you," he said, "But it'll be good to all those readers out there."

"Can I kill him now?" asked Warren.

"I wish I could let you," Alex said.

"Wade, could you can it?" Logan said.

Alex paused. No. It couldn't be.

"Aww, but I don't wanna!"Wade said.

"Sit down," Logan said.

Wade rolled his eyes and took a seat. Alex watched him carefully.

"Do you know someone called Terry?" he asked.

Wade's demeanor switched, becoming stiffer with an underlying edge of hostility.

"Oh," Alex said, "You do."

He winced, because he didn't like the implication his words could cause.

You're Wade Wilson, aren't you?" he asked.

"What the hell is it to you?" demanded Wade.

Alex walked up to him, meeting his stony glare perfectly.

"If Terry's mentioned me at all to you," Alex said softly, "Then she'll probably have referred to me as Uncle Alex."

The eyeholes in Wade's mask seemed to glow. Yep, he knew Terry.

"You're the really impetuous tough guy one," Wade said.

"And you're the wisecracker," said Alex, "Small world, isn't it?"

"Agreed," Wade mumbled.

He straightened himself up.

"How's she doin?" he asked, "Still working with those SSR dudes?"

"Yeah, although they've changed the name," Alex said, "Does Terry know you're here?"

All friendliness seemed to vanish.

"No," Wade said, "I'd like ta keep it that way, but the way you're looking at me, I don't think that's gonna happen."

"You're her boyfriend," said Alex, "I think she's kind of entitled to knowing where you disappear off to."

Wade shrugged, but he still seemed tense. A noise from the front. It didn't sound like anything dangerous, more like someone pulling up in their driveway, and, if he was correct, it was just Charles.

God he needed him around.

"Come on guys," he said, "Let's go meet the rest of the team."

Maybe Charles would know what to do about this mess. At leas he hoped he did.


	36. Chapter 36

Kurt was frightened to get out of the car when it stopped. He wanted to stay inside the vehicle, to just keep holding Amanda's hand and staring forward. He didn't want to have to think about his mother inside that cabin, think about why she was there, about the years and unanswered questions which lay between them.

But he knew he couldn't. He wasn't allowed to hide away, even after everything that had happened. Besides, they were all waiting for him, his uncle included. He'd seen the questioning look he gave Kurt as the car stopped, the way he seemed to be waiting for something.

He wasn't going to disappoint. So, with great concentration, he unbuckled and opened the car door. Amanda unbuckled and slid out behind him. She gave his hand a light squeeze, but he didn't squeeze back. He didn't have it in him to pretend everything was fine.

Hank got out of the driver's side and walked over to the passenger's side. Kurt watched as he helped his uncle out, even unfolding his wheelchair. Again, Kurt felt like he should be helping, but he had no idea what to do or how to go about it.

Again, Amanda squeezed his hand. He felt grateful for how she seemed to be able to read his mind, but some part of him just wanted to be left alone. It felt like, everywhere he went, someone was ready with a new weight to place on his shoulders.

And, as that realization sunk in, Kurt realized something else.

"I'm not ready to see her," he said.

Hank stopped helping his uncle and turned to look at him. His uncle's eyes were wide and, perhaps, a little sad. Kurt swallowed.

"It is not zat I do not vant to see her," Kurt said slowly, "But it is...vith everyzing zat has happened..."

He licked his lips.

"I need to know vhy now," Kurt said, "I need to know vhy, after leafing me all zhoze years ago, she is back now."

"Your life was in danger," whispered Amanda.

"I know," Kurt said, "I know...but I..."

He ran a hand through his hair. It was turning out to be more difficult than he thought to articulate his feelings, and that was saying something.

"I just zink zat, after all of zis, I need to..." Kurt said.

He swallowed. Kurt was so tired of being lost, of being confused, of having his life spiral rapidly out of his control.

"I need to know vhat is going on," he said.

Charles looked at him for a moment, and then sighed.

"You have every right to know," he said, "But I have no answers for you."

"I know zat," Kurt said, "But...I just need to know."

Charles nodded, his lips pursed and his eyes looking at some point Kurt couldn't see. He wondered what was going through his head, if he thought Kurt was cowardly or smart. Kurt honestly didn't feel like he was either.

He just felt lost.

"It's going to be alright," said Charles, "We'll figure something out."

* * *

When Charles wheeled into the room, followed closely by Hank, Mystique felt her throat constrict. She hadn't seen Charles in years, not since D.C. All of his hair was gone now, and a kind of serenity shown out from his eyes.

There was a slight crack in it though, and she knew he was concerned. Mystique fought the urge to begin fiddling with her hands or the chair.

"Raven," he said softly.

"Charles," she said.

She could hear the low murmuring from the teenagers, but Alex held up his hand. The murmuring stopped immediately. It looked like Alex had given them a healthy respect for authority, even if they did technically disobey it on what was probably a daily basis as X-men.

She swallowed again and looked past Charles, watching for when her son came into the room.

"Kurt won't be joining us for a little bit," Charles said, his voice soft, "It's...been a difficult time for him."

Mystique nodded, although she felt a slight pang in her heart. She wasn't sure why that was. Her best case scenario for this whole ordeal was her not even having to talk to her son. It wasn't an option any more, but she'd hoped it could be when she joined Logan.

Now she saw how wrong she was to hope.

"But," he said, "We need to find out what's going on."

His voice suddenly became businesslike, and Mystique rubbed her temples. She knew then that she wasn't talking to her brother. She was talking to the leader of the X-man and the headmaster for Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

Perhaps it was his way to try and establish some sort of normalcy with so many of his students in the room.

"Think maybe you should tell this one," Logan rumbled.

Mystique shot him a look.

"Why?" she asked coldly, "You know more about it than I do."

Logan shifted from one foot to the other, but Mystique crossed her arms. It was bad enough that they had had to come to Charles. Having to explain this mess was another can of worms entirely, one she honestly didn't want to deal with. She hadn't been given a choice in the matter, but she'd be damned if she would be the one to explain Logan's mistakes.

He huffed and stopped moving.

"Coupla years back me an my brother joined a project called Weapon X," Logan said.

Good. At least he was being honest.

"You have a brother?" Charles asked, blinking.

"Yeah," said Logan, "We don't really...talk anymore, but that's another story."

"Not really," Mystique said.

Logan shot her a look, but she wasn't going to let him leave out key facts.

"Me an my brother got similar abilities," Logan said, "My brother always let his instincts rule im though. We parted ways after things went too far."

Mystique wondered if she should demand Logan elaborate, demand he talk about the people who had ben callously murdered by his brother. However, this time she decided not to have Logan give more details.

As painful as she wanted this recitation to be for him, she didn't want him to get any ideas about what she should talk about concerning her brother.

"But...there was this one time," said Logan, the words forced, "He uh, he went on a solo mission. Came back bragging about...being with some girl."

Mystique raised her eyebrows. That was a very censored version of what she'd thought Logan would say, given his past uses of the English language. However, it was probably strange for him to get too profane with this, for several reasons.

"Oh-kay," Alex said, "That's not something I needed to know."

"It is though, unfortunately," said Mystique.

"And why's that?" asked Alex.

"Because a couple years later, Logan here learns he's an uncle," Mystique said.

She didn't have to turn around to know Logan was glaring at her again. She made a vague gesture with her hand.

"Now, tell them how you found out you were an uncle," she said.

"Do you wanna tell this?" Logan snapped.

"I've already made it clear that I didn't," she said, "I just want to make sure you give as many facts as possible because, unfortunately, we're stuck with this right now."

She could still feel Logan's eyes burning into the back of her skull when he resumed talking.

"My nephew sent a strike team ta try an kill me when I went out huntin in Canada," he said, "They failed, obviously, but one of em talked."

Mystique saw her brother's brow furrow, obviously deep in thought. Alex decided to interject again though.

"Why did your nephew want you dead?" he asked.

"Cause I'm proof he's got mutants for relatives," Logan snapped, "He's not a mutant, not as far as I can tell, but he hates em pretty damn bad. He's..."

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'm guessin ya all know about the Friends of Humanity," he said.

"Unfortunately," Charles said.

"Well, my nephew is..."

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose tighter.

"My nephew's Graydon Creed."

Mystique saw the teens' eyes go wide. Alex's face scrunched up in fury and Hank looked like he was about to be sick.

"Your nephew is the goddamn leader of the goddamn FOH?" Alex demanded.

"Trust me, I wasn't too happy about that either," said Logan dryly.

"He's the son of a mutant?" asked the teen with goggles disbelievingly, "Why-?"

"Vic's not exactly gonna win father o the year any time soon," Logan said, "As for Graydon's motivations, he's tryin ta do a little bit of cleansing here."

"And he was being really thorough," said Chris, glancing around the room, "He doesn't just want his mutant relatives dead. He wants anyone who might know he's related to a mutant dead."

"Which is where we come in," Wade said, "Coz, thing is, usually if people decided they want to kill me, I'd be like, Good luck!"

He threw up his hands and grinned. Mystique rolled her eyes.

"But Graydon is one sick sonuvabitch, and he likes ta target family members and shit ta draw people outta hiding," Wade said, "And he is totally okay with killing all of them, or torturing them, so, with a sentiment Uncle Alex here will approve of, I figured I needed to find him and stick a katana through his head before he tried that shit with me."

Alex turned a shade paler and his jaw tightened. Mystique wondered what was up with that as Wade grinned under his mask.

"Golly gee it was tough bein quiet for so long," he said.

"Shut up," Logan snapped.

Wade pouted, but Logan didn't wait for a response.

"He's already killed a couple people on the Weapon X team, as well as one of the scientists," Logan said, "He's not taking any chances. But we figured out what was happening pretty fast, even if we weren't sure about who it was at first. But..."

He rubbed the back of his neck. Yes, this was where she figured the story would get difficult to tell.

"But we found out he was still lookin for any potential relatives," Logan said, "He...he'd heard, not sure where, that his mother was one o the members o the Brotherhood. The original members."

Charles blinked rapidly, and she wondered what he must be thinking. Mystique gave him a look, urging him to clarify that, but Logan ignored her.

"See, all three of em had DNA samples tucked away from when they were experimented on or when people got lucky," he said, "So, my nephew figured he could go into the archives and find a match. Make sure no one else was related to him."

Chris cleared his throat.

"We um, we ran a scan remotely at the same time he did in an attempt to intercept Graydon's program," he said, "And it wasn't that difficult to find and overtake the program, especially when Wade was at his facility as a distraction, fighting some of his guards."

"And killing them. Don't forget that," Wade said helpfully.

"From our location, we figured out his mother's name was Emma Frost," Chris said, ignoring Wade.

Good. At least someone had cleared that one up.

"She had a son?" asked Hank.

Mystique shifted. She always felt a little uncomfortable around Hank. A great deal of history existed there, as much as she might wish it didn't.

"Yes," Chris said, "Now, we knew one of those three women had died without any relatives. But, because of her last name, she was listed last on the list. So, we had to wait until it actually moved down the list to falsify the match. That way, any relatives wouldn't be in any danger."

"But somethin went wrong," said Logan, "And it didn't work."

Enough was enough.

"You know what?" asked Mystique, "I should've told this story, even if I wasn't there at the beginning. At least I would've gotten the facts straight."

She didn't wait for a response.

"Logan's been seeing some Canadian schoolteacher for the past two years, and her younger sister is adopted," Mystique said, "Her name's Emma, and as soon as dipshit over here sees Emma Frost's pictures, sees her mutation is exactly like his girlfriend's sister, he loses his shit."

"That's not-" Logan said.

"No, that is exactly what happened and you know it," snapped Mystique, "So, instead of waiting for the right moment to activate Chris's program, he does it early just to make sure, which screws it up, and sends it right back to the beginning of the list."

Charles closed his eyes. At least he understood.

"Which means Graydon thinks your his mother," he said.

"And that Kurt's his brother," Mystique said, "And he is willing to move heaven and earth to make sure we die before anyone else finds out."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I know that, in the comics, Graydon is actually Mystique's son. However, I tried to do the math with this, and it just didn't work. By my calculations she would've had to have had Graydon before she became a member of the Brotherhood for him to be old enough to have the level of power he does in the FOH in this fic, which just seemed downright impossible to me. _


	37. Chapter 37

Charles took in a deep breath. He had, on a few occasions, met Graydon Creed. Mostly it was during a protest at a conference he was at, or at a speaker forum. He was a good orator, even if Charles had reason and logic on his side whenever the two clashed.

It was always difficult whenever he had to come face to face with him. Even if Graydon didn't know he was behind the X-men, Charles knew that it was on Graydon's orders that many of his students had almost lost their lives. While Charles always made sure to project a front of serenity and calm in front of Graydon, more than once he'd had to fight the urge to punch him.

Now he found out Graydon was actually the son of two mutants. Some of the X-men, Scott included, probably saw his crusade as hypocritical. Charles, however, saw it as a sign of deepening insanity.

After all, if he hated mutants that much, and was fully aware that he had mutant blood in his veins, then his disgust with himself personally would likely match the fury with which he hated mutants.

"And it's not like we can go back and correct this mistake," Mystique said, "Even if Graydon believed us, he'd just try and kill Kurt and I to make sure before going up for Kayla and Emma."

She shook her head.

"Besides, I'm not really in the mood to throw two other people under the bus to appease some psycho," she said.

Charles was relieved to hear it.

"For a while he was huntin Mystique here," Logan said, "Not many people know she's got a kid."

"I'm sorry, slow down for a minute," said Warren.

Confusion was rising in Warren's eyes, and Charles braced himself for what happened next.

"Okay, I get everything you've said so far," he said, "And I was pretty shocked about the whole Graydon-is-related-to-mutants thing, but I think we were all kinda swallowed by that one so much that we kinda let something else fly under the radar."

"Like?" growled Logan.

Warren shrank back a little, but his confusion overcame whatever fear he had of Logan.

"Like Kurt being the son of one of the most famous mutant terrorists of all time," he said.

Yes, that was what he was afraid of. It, was, however, a valid question. Mystique fixed Warren with her golden eyes, and the corners of her mouth twitched.

"I mean, I knew Kurt had trouble at home, but-" Warren said.

"I gave Kurt up for adoption when he was little," said Mystique coldly, "So he wouldn't have to be around me, so that this particular situation wouldn't happen. But now it has. So thank you for rubbing my face in that particular failure."

Warren flushed and his eyes narrowed. The rest of the X-men were looking distinctly uncomfortable now, and Charles figured he'd need to have a private discussion with all of them after they laid out a plan.

If this was their reaction to Mystique being Kurt's mother, than he had a feeling the knowledge she was his sister would hit them particularly hard. Yes, that would have to be a private discussion, and perhaps one that should have happened before now.

Warren's eyes flicked up, looking at the wall.

"So you admit that you ditched him?" asked Warren, "But you regret it now?"

 _That will be quite enough of that_ , Charles thought.

Warren didn't respond, and Mystique's mouth tightened.

"I hardly see how that's any of your business," she said.

"Oh, it's not my business at all," Warren said.

He nodded behind Mystique.

"But it is his," he said.

Charles's heart sank. He'd asked Kurt to wait a little while before coming in, given his words outside, but from Warren's tone, and the looks on the rest of the X-men's faces, he could tell that Kurt hadn't listened.

* * *

Kurt stood still in the doorway, looking over the scene. The man who had helped save his life earlier was there, as well as two other men he didn't recognize. The last unfamiliar figure sat with her back to Kurt, not looking behind her.

"I think everyone needs to leave right now," Charles said quietly.

Alex nodded and grabbed Warren's arm, looking unhappy. Kurt wasn't sure how he felt about him revealing that he was there. He'd wanted to wait a few more minutes before saying something, but perhaps it was better to get this over with quickly.

"Awww," a man wearing a red and black mask said, "I wanna see the soap opera."

"You do that and I'll tell Terry you massacred a bunch of FOH as a distraction," Alex snapped.

The man moaned and picked up a gun that was leaning against the wall.

"I can tell we're not gonna like each other," he said.

"I already don't like you," Alex said, "Now everyone, get."

Warren and his friends were the first to leave, shoved forward by Alex. The man who'd saved Kurt's life earlier shot a sympathetic look toward his mother, but she still didn't respond. He left quickly though, as they all did. The only one who lingered was the man in red and black, and even he hurried up when Alex shouted at him from the next room.

That left him, his uncle, and Amanda alone with his mother.

"Vell?" Kurt asked quietly.

It wasn't the best way to start a conversation, but it was the only one he could think of. His mother didn't turn around though. She just kept staring forward. The silence was uncomfortable and thick, and he found himself reaching for Amanda's hand again.

It must be bruised after the amount of times he'd held it tightly that night.

"I was nineteen when I found out I was pregnant," his mother said, "Almost twenty."

His throat seized up.

"Your father was another member of the Brotherhood," she said, "His name was Azazel. You look a lot like him. I hear you teleport. You got that from him too."

There was a hitch in her voice.

"He died on a mission two months after I found out I was pregnant," Mystique said, "Kurt was the name he wanted for you if you were a boy."

It was becoming harder to breath by the second.

"When you were a baby," Mystique said, "You were...you were so small. You were born two months early. I was so scared you wouldn't make it, that I was going to lose you too. Some of the doctors even wanted to kill you, because I'd disguised myself when I entered. They didn't know what to make of you. But you survived."

Amanda reached out and grabbed his hand.

"And then I realized I had to do something," she said, "Our leader had just been arrested for the assassination of John F. Kennedy, which I think I should say, he didn't actually do. Your father was dead and the Brotherhood was falling apart. I'd had an uncomfortably close call in Florida."

Kurt glanced at his uncle, who was looking at his mother with rapt attention. It appeared he hadn't known any of this either.

"I had to give you to someone I thought would care for you," she said, "So I gave you to your father's childhood friend, Margali. She'd sheltered us a few times when we were on the run."

Amanda stiffened and Kurt blinked. He remembered wondering if Margali had known his birth parents. It appeared she had.

"She'd known I was pregnant," his mother said, "We had taken shelter with her a few weeks after I found out. Azazel had wanted me to stay with her, but Margali wouldn't risk it. Not being recently widowed with one small child and another on the way. I can't blame her for that."

His mother sighed, a deep, shuddering sound.

"I was so frightened," she said, "I was alone, hunted, and young. I thought I could give you a happy family life, a life I never could. I thought I was giving you to a family who would love you as their own. Margali was always very fond of Azazel. He said he thought of her as family. I thought she would take you in as her son."

"You were wrong," Amanda said.

Her voice, so sharp and unlike the one he was used to, startled Kurt. His mother stiffened.

"You didn't even ask if she would," said Amanda, "We've both seen the note you left. And don't tell me you didn't give Kurt to her in person because it was too hard. You left a baby on a doorstep."

"I stayed to see if she would open the door when I knocked," his mother said.

"Then why not just give him to her in person?" Amanda persisted.

"Your mother didn't like me," his mother said.

He could tell she was getting irritated, and Kurt shook his head when Amanda opened her mouth to speak. While Amanda was one of the kindest souls he knew, she was also a lion when she was protecting people she cared about. It was clear she felt his mother had too long of a history hurting him to be trusted completely.

Some insidious part of him agreed with her.

"But I knew she would take him in, for Azazel's sake if no one else's," his mother continued, "And I felt like I needed...like I needed to give him the best chance he could have."

"Which was with Margali," Charles said quietly.

His voice was quiet and sad, without a hint of accusation in it. Kurt turned to him and saw an infinite expanse of pain on his face and, for the first time since his mother started speaking, he felt a flicker of anger toward her for what she'd done.

Ever since Kurt had crashed into his life, Charles had been nothing but understanding and kind. Even when Kurt told him he'd killed Stefan, Charles had understood. He had wanted nothing more than to get to know Kurt, and Kurt could tell that he sincerely accepted Kurt as his nephew.

To know that he might have been given to this man at birth, that this man could've acted as more than an uncle growing up, that he could've been his father, mad Kurt's head spin. True, he wouldn't have grown up with Amanda, but he had a feeling they would've found each other somehow.

His mother turned and looked at Charles, even if she wouldn't look at him.

"That's not what happened Charles," she said softly, "I'm sorry you thought that."

"Raven, what else am I supposed to think?" asked Charles, his voice more desperate than angry, "You didn't want me to raise your son. Was I really…was I really such a poor choice in your eyes?"

"That wasn't it Charles," Raven said.

She waved her hand around.

"For a while, I truly intended to give Kurt to you," she said, "I truly did. It was actually a comfort to me to think about him growing up in the same halls that I did, sliding down the bannister, hating that color on the walls in the library-"

Her voice choked and she stopped abruptly.

"Then why didn't you?" asked Charles.

Raven bit her lip.

"Charles, Kurt was born in October of 1964," she said, "I hadn't reconciled myself with giving him up until seven months later."

Charles went still, and then bowed his head.

"May 1965," he whispered.

Raven nodded, and Kurt blinked.

"What does that mean?" asked Amanda.

"I…one of my students died that month protecting some of his fellow students from a hate group known as the Purifiers," Charles said softly, "The government came in and took his body before we could give him a decent burial."

"Margali just seemed like a safer option after Sean died," said Raven, her voice coming out quickly, "I left the note, because I thought things might change. But Charles, I couldn't…I just couldn't do it then."

"I…I understand," Charles said.

Something like relief shadowed his mother's face and, suddenly Kurt couldn't quite stay silent anymore. Everything swirled in his head, both what he'd heard about the man who thought he was his brother, and the mother he'd never known.

And, more than anything, he wanted to know one thing.

"Vhy von't you look at me?" he asked.

Raven didn't answer. He swallowed, and looked at her pleadingly.

"Vhy von't you look at me?" he repeated.

Her teeth began worrying her bottom lip.

"Bitte?" he said.

Slowly, his mother turned to look at him, and Kurt found himself staring into his own golden eyes. It was like looking into a reflection that had been warped into glass, and the whole world began wobbling, moving back and forth.

Something familiar to him was whirling in his mother's eyes.

"Kurt," Raven said, "I know I made mistakes. But everything I did was to protect you. I didn't…I didn't know how else to keep you safe. I didn't know how things would turn out. I had to…I had to do what I thought was right, and I'd already done so much wrong."

The world stopped wobbling, steadying out. Amanda's hand was sweaty in his, but he kept holding it. It was less like an anchor and more like a comforting gesture now, more like what it should be, had been meant to be.

"I know you never felt like I did," she said, "But I love you. And I don't expect anything from you. Not your love, not your forgiveness-"

"But you haf it."

The words surprised even Kurt, and his mother's eyes widened. Kurt thought of the years he spent bent over his rosary, asking forgiveness for his own sins, worrying if he'd ever be good enough.

"I…what do you mean?" asked Raven.

Kurt took one last deep breath.

"I forgive you," he said.


	38. Chapter 38

Graydon blew over his cup of coffee and stared out the hotel window. It was nighttime now and, for the most part, New Salem was quiet. If he'd gotten there a few hours earlier it would've been a different story but, as it was, the entire town was sleeping now.

Behind him two of his lieutenants were watching him, no doubt waiting for an explosion. He almost snickered at that thought. No, he'd had his explosion earlier, had spent his rage on the hapless fools who had been forced to carry the bad news of their team's failure.

It had been a bad day, and it didn't look like his mood was going to improve any time soon. They'd had his brother, the word felt like poison in his mind, cornered. Then his mother and uncle, two words which made him want to vomit, had come in and spoiled everything.

If the ground team had any finesse, they would've been able to salvage the situation, and he'd be rid of two of the taints in his blood. Instead, they had allowed themselves to be outclassed by teenagers of all things.

He walked a little closer to the window. The fact that the five teenagers were mutants was a little strange. He was willing to admit this. He was well aware that Charles Xavier, the wealthy, annoyingly intelligent mutant rights activist, had inherited a nearby estate. He ran some sort of school there.

Graydon had his personal suspicions about the school but, as far as he could tell, it was simply a private school which all but canonized the dregs of society, existing to lift those in poverty to a higher plane. He'd done a decent amount of digging on the school, and he couldn't find much of anything. He knew some people, like the industrialist Worthington, sent their children there, which meant the education had to be good. It appeared it wasn't all bleeding heart then.

Likely it was some sort of robbing Paul to pay Peter scheme, but it worked out. Perhaps Charles had taken in a few mutants too. It was the only explanation Graydon could have for a group of six mutants wandering around the ground together. Graydon had sometimes wondered if Xavier was a mutant himself. What was it about Westchester that attracted such freaks?

"We found a few people who said they saw a car heading down the road toward the school," one said, "But, um, we can't confirm whether or not it actually made it there. Xavier has the area pretty well fenced off."

Graydon resisted the urge to snort. He could've told his men that. However, he didn't. This mission was delicate enough as it was and, thanks to the efforts of that Wade freak, he only had 150 men at his disposal now, and time was running short.

He walked a little closer to the window. When he was younger, he'd grown up in blissful ignorance of his origins. True, he'd found out he was adopted at the age of 10 by the people who raised him, coincidentally named Creed. That hadn't been a problem, because his parents hadn't known about his origins.

Both his parents were fierce anti-mutant campaigners. His father was stronger than his mother, but she had been a silent, supportive force both in their household and their widening network. Graydon had used her techniques, coupled with his father's oratory skills and network, to create the Friends of Humanity.

Even after they had died Graydon had continued on quite happily for a few years, until he got a call from his great aunt. She'd been the one who had procured him for his parents and, at the time, had been dying of cancer.

She'd always been the soft one in his family, and he'd often watched in amusement as a child as she tried to argue with his father. He'd actually forbidden her from coming into the house at one point, lest Graydon catch any of her ideas as a child.

So he'd reluctantly obeyed a summons to her deathbed, only to have her tell him that his birth mother had been something of a friend to her and, as such, she knew she was a mutant. She'd gloried in telling him his father was a mutant too, that she'd only been waiting until his parents died to tell him the horrible truth. She'd had some fondness left for her sister and had no desire to cause strife.

What was worse was she'd actually shipped the information to a select few FOH leaders. He'd been too late to stop it from arriving. That had nearly led to his exposure and his dismissal, but a few of the leaders had actually recognized his potential as a public relations coordinator, orator and leader.

No one had seemed to remember that he'd founded them. No one had been grateful for what he'd done, any of his accomplishments. No. It was all about what use he could be to them in the future. Graydon sneered as he thought of that.

The compromise had been for him to simply get rid of everything that proved he was connected to mutants. This meant, in the FOH's eyes, his biological parents, his uncle, and any siblings he might have had. They really weren't concerned about anything further than that, although Graydon had the feeling they wanted to keep that for blackmail material.

He'd decided to start with his father, a mission which had ended disastrously. He'd found what remained of his men and felt so sick afterwards he hadn't been able to sleep. His father was unlikely to be taken alive, and he had to take that into account.

However, killing him posed its own problem. Through vigorous consultation, he'd realized there was no known way to kill Victor Creed. He had some time though and, of the two, he thought his uncle might be a little easy to capture.

But his uncle had proven wily, recruiting some of his friends from a government program. Perhaps trying to kill the Weapon X members had been a touch premature, but he'd needed information about both his father and uncle. Besides, having people around who could prove he was related to mutants was the textbook definition of a liability.

He'd been good at it too, until Logan had organized. He'd been set on going after his uncle when word reached that they had DNA samples of the three Brotherhood women. His aunt had been annoyingly vague on which one was his mother. One was already dead, so he'd hoped she'd been his mother, making things easier for him.

But no, it had to be the most disgusting of the three. He'd begun to pursue her too, only to find his uncle had coopted her into his little group. They'd been very proficient at avoiding him, using delaying tactics and hit and run techniques.

Graydon had begun considering smoking some of them out, researching any possible loved ones, when he'd heard some intelligence about his half brother. And he'd thought his mother had been disgusting. She was nothing compared to the creature she had spawned.

The past few months had been difficult. Kurt had been a stationary point, until he'd murdered someone and then disappeared. Graydon had reviewed the security footage of the area, and found someone had been with him that night.

Further review showed it to be a young woman with golden hair. He'd immediately thought of the young woman in his brother's foster family, and compared pictures. It was her, helping her brother's murderer escape.

Usually he preferred not to involve actual humans. Killing mutants was like killing rats: if you didn't man up and do it now, they would soon infest the entire place. There was nothing to it really, and it was one of the more simple things in life.

Humans were humans though, and it made him a touch uneasy. He could swallow it, right enough, but he knew his men had difficulty with that. It was made easier when he discovered, through some money and a great deal of sweet-talking, that she was lovers with his half-brother. If a woman wanted to lay down with dogs, then it only made sense she should wake up with fleas.

He'd told this to the men to comfort them, and they'd gone to collect her. A little bit of torture was likely on the menu, and he wanted to make sure they had the stomach for it. He knew he certainly did. Anything to make this nightmare go faster.

The more he thought about it, the more his conscience dwindled away when he thought of involving humans in this. The ones involved were like sheep, just begging to get into trouble. They, unlike him, didn't have to be involved. They had chosen to do so, and if they were hurt because of it, then what of it?

But things hadn't gone according to plan because his uncle had once again stepped in. He'd tried to pursue them for a while, but then he'd realized Wade and Chris were alone in their escapades. They were leading them on, leading them away from where they needed to be.

Graydon had gotten down to basics then, combing the area Amanda and Kurt had run after the murder. It had taken considerable effort, but he'd found one of them was headed toward New York. From there it was a laborious process, aided by a few sightings of his uncle, mother, and his brother's girlfriend.

So, when he was sure of the area his brother was in, he'd sent his men. He'd told them, in no uncertain terms, that they were not to engage his brother. He was to be used as a bartering chip to draw his mother and uncle in. She might have abandoned him, but his mother clearly cared about his brother enough to want to save him. It meant he would be useful.

That plan had been shattered as soon as his men had drawn their guns. They claimed the teenagers were fierce fighters, and Graydon wanted to bash their heads into the wall until their brains stained the wallpaper. Teenagers? Really? They had been beaten by teenagers?

Again though, he only had so many men, so he needed to take good care of what little resources he had. He took a sip of his coffee, as he thought it was finally cool enough to drink. It wasn't, and he grimaced.

Hiding his distaste, he slowly turned around. He saw one of the men flinch.

"We'll just have to be creative about getting in then," he said, "I've called for reinforcements. Attacking the school head on would be too risky. It's more likely we need to enter using an alternative route."

He blew on the coffee again. Who made coffee this hot?

"Sir," one of them said shifting his feet, "Are you sure about that? There are..."

He swallowed.

"Some of those children in the school might be humans," he said, "I don't know...I'm uncomfortable with the thought of killing human children just to get to a few mutants."

Graydon nodded, acknowledging his point. Then he threw the contents of the coffee on the man's face, and he howled in agony. The man next to him flinched to avoid the liquid, but didn't' help. Good. It seemed at least one of them understood.

He waited until the man's howls had turned to whimpers.

"Perhaps," he said, "But I'm through playing games."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Sorry everyone, but I'm going to have to take a hiatus of about three days. I'm also sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger, but the final battle's just around the corner._


	39. Chapter 39

Mystique felt her eyes sting and her throat start to swell. A few words tried to pass her swollen lips, but she gave up. Everything about her seemed thick and heavy, her ears slowly starting to block out all sounds.

This was not what she had been expecting when the night had started. Mystique had felt like she was walking toward a nightmare as she'd approached Westchester, and not because she was going home.

If she'd only had to deal with Charles, if Charles was the only one she'd let down within those four walls, Mystique would feel a lot better. At least in that case some blame was still due to Charles, and they could work things out together.

But Kurt? What had Kurt done to her to deserve being left behind? True, she'd been trying to do the right thing for him, but sometimes she wasn't sure what the right thing was. Should she have believed the danger would pass and Charles would've taken care of him? Had leaving him with Margali even been a bad decision?

They were questions she had plagued herself with for years whenever she'd thought about Kurt. And she'd never thought of him as a child or a teenager: she hadn't dared. It would have reminded her of how long it had been since she'd left him on Margali's doorstep, how many other mistakes she'd made. It was why Amanda's presence had been so jarring: babies didn't have girlfriends.

Instead she'd seen him as he'd been as a baby. His sweet golden eyes had stared up at her hopefully, his chubby hands clinging to the cloth of her shirt as she left him behind. She'd nearly cried that night, nearly changed her mind, but she'd been so convinced she was doing the right thing.

She had refused to cry though. It was one of the things he'd told herself. She no longer had the right to cry for her son. Not after what she'd done. She couldn't cry when she'd seen him again, because she had lost the right to be emotionally invested in him. It was the only thing keeping her from weeping

But, whether or not it was the right thing, Mystique had never expected his forgiveness. Why would he give her something so precious, so rare? There were no conditions that she could see, not even a word of reproach for what she'd done.

More and more sound became filtered out. Mystique felt like she was being deprived of all her senses, and she would be glad if that happened. It would've been so easy if she did, the silence would have been welcome.

Then, Kurt spoke again. And this, this she heard.

"Und I vill pray to God to bestow his grace on you," he said, "So zat you may forgife yourself."

Tears, unwanted and undeserved, welled in her eyes.

"I don't deserve your prayers," she said.

Kurt's eyes widened slightly, and then he took a step closer. Mystique tensed, but she didn't run. It wasn't for lack of wanting to though. The only problem was that something equal to the part that wanted to run also wanted to stay. She was being pulled into two separate directions, and neither of them were feeling merciful.

"Ve haf all done zings ve are not proud of," Kurt said, "Zat doesn't mean we cannot start again."

He gestured to himself.

"I haf trouble forgiving myself for killing Stefan," he said.

"Kurt, that wasn't your fault," Amanda said.

Amanda's voice surprised Mystique, for many reasons. She realized that at least one of them was that she'd forgotten there were other people in the room. She'd been so preoccupied in what Kurt was saying, in what he was offering, that she had forgotten they weren't alone.

But Amanda's voice as lacking the hard edge it always possessed whenever she spoke to her. Instead, there was a kind of confident strength in it, like she planned to wash away all of Kurt's self-doubt with it.

He looked at her and gave a small smile. Mystique couldn't even see a hint of mirth in it.

"I'm not sure it matters," he said.

He turned to Charles.

"Ve all carry guilt, vether or not ve should," he said, "Perhaps none of us are blameless, but perhaps ve also try to carry more ze burden zen it is right for us to do. It is just somezing zat happens. Ve are not alvays ze best judges of what can and cannot be forgiven. Zere is no sin beyond, love, no soul beyond redemption."

Kurt sighed.

"Forbearing vone another, and forgiving vone another, if any man have a quarrel against any," Kurt said, "even as Christ forgave you, so also do ye."

A few tears threatened to spill over Mystique's eyes. Maybe Margali hadn't accepted him as her son. However, it appeared she had raised him right.

"It is not easy," he said, "But ve can do it, all of us can."

He shook his head.

"And zis, vhat ve haf here, I do not zink it vill be easy either," Kurt said, "But...I know that I have loved you since I vas very young."

He grabbed Amanda's hand and held it tightly. His eyes flickered to Charles.

"And I know zat you are mien family," he said, "Giving me sanctuary and understanding when I needed it the most."

Mystique saw Charles squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them again, they were looking at her. She had the feeling everyone else was too. Mystique felt her blood begin to run cold. What was going to happen now?

"Kurt, you don't know anything about me," she said.

She thought back to what Amanda had said to her on the trip up.

"And I don't know anything about you," she said.

To her surprise, Kurt simply grinned.

"Ja, but you know I haf forgiven you," he said.

He shrugged.

"Maybe zat is enough for now," he said.

* * *

A small beeping noise filled the air. Warren looked over at Chris and saw him flip open what looked like a mixture between a walkie talkie and a TV. It was odd: he'd never thought those two could be combined before.

"What's that?" Warren asked.

Chris glanced at him and began punching in numbers.

"It's...hard to explain in under fifteen minutes," he said, "Which might be all we have."

The rest of the X-men looked up. Warren didn't blame them.

"Until what?" he demanded.

Chris didn't answer and Alex got to his feet. He was halfway there when Chris paled.

"They're on the move Logan," he muttered.

Alex stopped in mid-stride. He turned suddenly to them.

"Get suited up," he said.

"Fin-a-ly," Wade said, "Seriously, a three day hiatus and we're only now getting an action scene?"

Warren got up and quickly grabbed his backpack. They'd been told to bring their uniforms and any other materials they thought they'd need.

"How many?" asked Logan.

"I'm picking up about fifteen trucks," Chris said, "They...looks like they're prepping for a full scale invasion."

"Are they near the school?" asked Alex.

"Not yet," Chris said, "But it looks like they're heading this way."

"Alright," Alex said.

He adjusted his jacket.

"Storm, Archangel, I want you ready in two minutes and prepped to go and give aerial support," he said.

Warren nodded and racked his brains, trying to remember where he was supposed to change. There was a bathroom nearby, he was sure of it. He had already unzipped the backpack and was halfway to the door when Logan started talking.

"Look, the last thing we need is kids makin things worse," Logan said.

Irritated, Warren pulled out his gloves and turned around. Alex looked furious.

"We've already discussed this," he said.

"We discussed workin together, but not bringin ya preschoolers out onto the field," he said.

"If these guys are coming in the types of numbers you're talking about, then you're going to need these 'preschoolers' or your ass is toast," Alex said, "And if you guys go down, then so does Kurt and everyone else, and I'm not allowing that."

"Then come with us, but the kids are only gonna make things worse," Logan snapped.

"Oh, we're going to make things worse?"

It was the kind of question Warren wanted to ask, but he didn't. Instead, the words came from Scott, who already had his uniform jacket under one arm.

"Last I checked, you guys were the ones who screwed things up to the point where they are now," he said, "And the fact that you can't humble yourselves enough to ask for help at this point is pretty humiliating."

Warren realized his mouth was open, and shut it quickly. Scott continued, not waiting for Logan to give a response.

"True, you've asked for my brother's help, and probably Hank's too if he'll give it," Scott said, "And I don't know if it's some misplaced sense of guilt that's making you reluctant to ask for our help, or something else entirely. Not my business to know that."

He narrowed his eyes.

"All I know is you can't be picky right now," he said, "You're all trained, true, but so are we. You have a lot to protect, but so do we. This school is our home, and anything that threatens it, or any of its students, is the equivalent of someone holding a knife to our families' throats."

Scott gestured around him.

"I think it's safe to say we all feel the same on that score," he said, "You want to come in and start making demands? That's not really your prerogative right now. This is our home, and we let you come here. We decided it would be smarter together, and we still think it is."

There was a long pause, and Logan gave Scott a cool look.

"I don't think we're gonna like each other much kid," he said.

"Maybe not," Scott said, "But we don't have to like each other. All we have to do is make sure we don't kill each other, and other people don't kill us. I won't stab you in the back out there, and we sure as hell won't fail."

He pulled out his uniform shirt, the red 'X' clearly visible.

"This isn't our first rodeo," he said.

Logan looked at him for a moment longer, and then gave a curt nod. Scott nodded back and joined Warren.

"Good," Alex said, looking at Scott with pride, "Now let's get our asses in gear. Jubes, go tell the Professor what's going on. I don't care what you have to interrupt."

She nodded quickly and headed to the other room.

"Archangel," snapped Alex, "What did I say about air support?"

Warren nodded and headed out of the room, still feeling slack-jawed. It only took him a moment to realize Scott was right behind him, pulling out his gloves.

"What was that?" he hissed, once they were safely out of earshot.

"I thought I'd take a page out of your book for once," he said, "I think it worked."

Warren laughed.

"I'll say it did," he said, "But don't do it too much. I'm the hot-headed one around here, remember?"

Scott grinned and shrugged on his uniform jacket.

"Be careful out there," he said.

"You too," Warren said.

He pulled out his own uniform shirt and ran his hand over the 'X.'

"Let's go show those intolerant assholes what happens when they screw with us," Warren said.


	40. Chapter 40

Jubilee didn't knock when she entered and, soon, she found four pairs of eyes staring at her like she was some sort of alien. People often did that to her, especially before she came to the Institute. Of course, now it was because she was interrupting what was probably a tender family moment between mother and son, but she was under orders.

"Alex told me to come get you," she told the Professor, "They're mobilizing, and he said we need to get going. He's already sent out Storm and Archangel for reconnaissance."

The Professor gave a sharp nod and then looked at Kurt, Amanda and Mystique. Jubilee stood by awkwardly. She didn't think Alex would like it if she returned without them. She hoped they wouldn't think she was just eavesdropping.

Although, truthfully, she was curious.

"Amanda, Kurt," the professor said, "You need to stay here."

"No," Kurt said.

"He's right," Mystique said, "You're not trained, and they're after you."

"All ze more reason I should not stay behind," said Kurt, "You could use me as ein distraction or..."

His voice trailed off as everyone in the room gave him a hard look. Jubilee, for her part, tried not to meet anyone's eyes.

"Okay, maybe not zat," Kurt said.

"Kurt, it would be safer for you and Amanda to stay here," the professor said.

"Ja, I see zat," Kurt said, "But it vould be safer if everyone else stayed too. I do not see vhy I should be left out even zough I am ze vone who-"

"But you're not the one," said Mystique, "The whole problem started because of other people. We already have plenty of people who are going to be out there today. I know Logan's not going to like using the X-men, they're too close in age to his girlfriend's baby sister, but we can convince him to use them."

"Zey're younger zan me," Kurt muttered.

True. Jubilee was going to turn seventeen next month.

"I'm aware," the professor said, "And they've been trained."

"Charles is right," Mystique said, "I know it's tough, but there's no reason for you to get involved in this fight. And that's just the way it is."

Kurt drew himself up, but Amanda moved one of her hands so both of her hands were clasping his. He looked at her in surprise.

"For once, I agree with her," said Amanda, "Kurt, I know you don't like to let other people fight your battles for you. But even I know this is a bit beyond us."

"Nein," Kurt said stubbornly.

Amanda sighed.

"Kurt, at the end of the day, we're not fighters," she said, "We're circus performers. And that's gotten us pretty far: I'll admit that. But we've always got lucky. I hate to admit it, but I'm not sure if I could've gotten away from the men who tried to take me at the airport if I didn't have help. We always had back-up, but those were places we could retreat from."

She glanced over at Mystique and the professor.

"Maybe it's best if we just leave this one to the professionals," she said softly.

Kurt gritted his teeth. He looked around the room a few times, no doubt seeing the same emotion in Amanda's voice reflected in their expressions. Jubilee kept her eyes glued to the floor when his gaze swept over her. She was just an intruder in all of this.

"Fine," Kurt said softly.

Amanda let out a slow breath, and Jubilee flicked her eyes up. The professor nodded and gestured for her. She hurried to his side.

"We'll make sure to leave you communication," the professor said, "We'll be back soon."

Kurt nodded, but didn't say anything. Jubilee gave him a sympathetic glance, she could see he was really torn, and began to push his wheelchair out. On her way out, Jubilee saw Mystique squeeze Kurt's shoulder.

"We'll...we'll talk more when I get back," she said.

He gave a much more brief nod, but Jubilee could see he still looked unhappy. She could understand. It was hard to sit something like this out, and even harder if you felt you were the one responsible for the situation in the first place.

And, from the look on his face, he clearly felt he was.

* * *

When everyone had left, Kurt turned to Amanda.

"I zought you vould agree vith me," he said.

Amanda shook her head.

"I don't always agree with you you know," she said.

"I know zat," Kurt said irritably.

He let go of her hand and turned away. How could he explain?

"Kurt, I don't want you out there and, quite frankly, I don't want to be out there either," she said, her voice impatient, "I meant what I said. We're not fighters. I knew I was probably going to get in the way when I insisted on coming with you from Westchester. But I wanted to stay with you."

He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Amanda, mien uncle und mutter are going out zere to fight vhen I am ze target," he said.

"And you wouldn't be if Logan had been more careful," Amanda said, "You heard that story just like I did. You don't have to feel guilty about this."

His tail swished as his irritation mounted. It was too easy for Amanda to read him.

"It's not just zat," he said.

"It's the fact that your family's fighting, isn't it?" she asked.

He gave a brief nod. Amanda walked so she was right beside him.

"I'm here," she said, "Doesn't that count for something?"

Kurt heaved a sigh.

"Of course it does," he said.

"Do you want me out there?" she asked.

"Nein," he mumbled.

"Because, if you went out there, you wouldn't be able to stop me from coming with you," she said.

He turned to her, saw her determined expression, the way her hands were clenched into fists. Kurt wondered, not for the first time, what it was about him that inspired such confidence and dedication from a woman like Amanda.

"I haf never doubted zat," Kurt said, "For better or for worse."

She walked up to him and put her hands on both sides of his face. He closed his eyes.

"I know you feel like you should be involved," she said, "But we have to face the facts right now. You and I are not the right people to take care of this problem. We're not trained and, in a battlefield setting, we'd probably be burdens."

Kurt bit his lip.

"They were right Kurt: that's just how it is right now," she said, "And I think we need to accept that."

"I can't just let my family go in zere vithout me!" Kurt said, opening his eyes.

"You just agreed with me," said Amanda, "When they were here-"

"Because I had no support," said Kurt, "Vhy didn't you-"

She gripped the sides of his face so tightly that it hurt. He stopped abruptly. He only realized then that her eyes were shining with unshed, angry tears.

"Has it occurred to you that I can't lose you too?" she asked.

Kurt stared at her.

"I've lost my brother, and I've lost my mother," Amanda said, "She's still alive, but she might as well be dead. I know that's how she thinks of me."

She looked at the door.

"You have your mother Kurt, and you have your uncle," she said, "I'm glad about that, and I will always care about everyone you care about. But they're not my family. I barely know them."

Amanda let go of his face. Her hands fell by her side before she gently touched his fingers with hers.

"All I have is you. I don't have anyone else," she said, "And if you don't have to go into danger, then I don't want you to go. You have to remember that your life isn't just yours, like mine isn't just mine."

Her blue eyes met his and, once again he felt like something was choking him.

"And if I do have to be in danger?" he asked.

Amanda blinked at him, but she didn't seem too concerned.

"Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried," Amanda said, shrugging, "I meant that Kurt. If that means fighting beside you, then so be it."

He had to resist the urge to smile. While her sentiment touched him, it was also the very point he was trying to make.

"And if I don't like you being in danger?" he asked.

"You'd have to get used to it-" Amanda began.

Kurt smirked despite himself and Amanda glared at him.

"Fine, I walked into that one," she said, "I'll admit it. But that's not...you can't just say it's the same thing."

"I can," Kurt said, "Und you know it vould not be me if I didn't."

Amanda made a face.

"Kurt..." she said.

"Just zink about it?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" she asked.

* * *

From above, the FOH trucks rolling along the highway looked like boxes or toys. She knew Warren was getting a better view, which was why he was the one calling in exact numbers. Ororo always had a bit of difficulty balancing, since she was flying using wind currents and the things keeping him aloft were, in fact, completely under his control.

Add maintaining cloud cover to that, and it was a recipe for things to go wrong.

"You good Storm?" he asked.

"How about you worry about keeping aloft and I keep worrying about the cloud cover?" she muttered.

Warren grinned good-naturedly. They had done this maneuver many times in the past. She cracked her neck. Ororo could just make out the massing trucks below her as they travelled down the same road she had travelled so often.

For some reason that made her blood boil.

"Havok said Mystique and the professor are mobilizing," Warren said.

Ororo looked up in surprise. She didn't wear an earpiece because it acted like a magnet whenever she summoned lightning. She kept it in a zippered pocket inside her uniform in case she got separated, but it meant she missed out on little bulletins like that.

"He's never come out with us before," she said.

"It seems like this is a special occasion," Warren said, "It's certainly shaping up to be an interesting night."

It seemed like an understatement, but Ororo nodded.

"Havok said they're en route and we should stay where we are and await further orders," he said.

Ororo nodded again and looked at the trucks. They weren't moving too fast, and they weren't too far away either.

"You know," she murmured casually, "You should tell Havok that I can probably throw a bolt of lightning at them. Maybe take out two or three of those trucks before they get here."

"Three?" asked Warren skeptically.

"Don't sound so surprised," Ororo snorted.

"Oh no, I'm fully confident you could summon three thunderbolts with enough juice to fry those trucks," Warren said.

"Good."

He made a noise of irritation.

"I'm just wondering if you'd be cool to stand on your own two feet afterwards," he said.

She scowled.

"Two then," Ororo said.

Warren grinned and relayed the message. The grin widened when he turned to her.

"He said 'You read my mind,'" Warren said.

Ororo stretched.

"Then let's get this show on the road," she said.


	41. Chapter 41

_**A/N:**_ _Sorry for the delay everyone. There was a glitch and I couldn't post last night. Tonight's chapter should be up in a few hours._

* * *

It was quieter than Graydon had expected it to be. He supposed it was part of country living, something he had always detested. He'd hated every camping trip his father, his human father, had ever taken him on. Coming back to the city had always been a relief.

However, there didn't appear to be any houses near the road. A quick perusal of the map showed what appeared to be blank landscape for thirty miles in every direction. No farms, no estates, no houses, no other towns, nothing.

It appeared that even Xavier's ancestors had valued their privacy. He frowned at the thought and scratched his neck thoughtfully. Was it possible the owned all the land in this area? Some research had shown that the Xaviers were major landowners, but this much?

He was still lost in his musings when a bolt of lightning struck the first truck in the convoy. It flipped into the air, hitting the truck behind it. His driver swore loudly and swerved off the main road to avoid hitting the truck in front of them, which had abruptly stopped.

Graydon opened the door to his truck and saw the lead car had been fried. The driver, who looked singed, and the other men, were getting out, assisted by a few others. It appeared they'd been wearing seatbelts.

He scanned the skies, wondering if there were going to be any more strikes. It was unlikely lightning would strike again, but it was unlikely lightning would've struck the truck in the first place. It didn't seem to be terribly cloudy, and Graydon furrowed his brow.

When a second lightning bolt struck one of the stalled trucks, he realized what was going on. Many of his men were running off the main road, no doubt too dumb to realize that, no, they hadn't stumbled upon some magical spot that naturally attracted lightning.

He spun around and got back into his truck. Graydon picked up his walkie talkie before leaving again.

"Get out of the trucks but keep your weapons close," he ordered, "It appears our targets have some sort of weather mutant, so get the hell away from anything that makes a big target or is made of metal."

Graydon looked around, trying to spot their attackers. He couldn't see anything, and then looked skyward again. The clouds looked heavy, and he briefly remembered that the forecast had been for clear skies that evening.

He pressed his lips into a firm line. It was a pity the FOH had turned down his request for a helicopter, but it didn't matter. Well, if they had to walk the rest of the way, then they would walk the rest of the way.

As he looked at the sky, he saw a flicker of movement that didn't seem to be connected to the clouds. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed his binoculars. Yes, there was movement and, if his eyes didn't deceive him, the glimpse of two forms.

He put down the binoculars and picked up his walkie talkie.

"Ramsay," he said, "Get the rocket launchers."

* * *

"And they say Jubes is the one who makes light shows," Warren said.

Ororo tossed her head back and smiled. He always liked working with her. She had always seemed more emotional than the other X-men, but not to the point where she could get swallowed by hysterics. That had happened once or twice with Jubilee and, in times like that, he was glad she was always paired with Jean. Jean could calm just about anyone down.

No, Ororo wasn't overly emotional, but she didn't shut down either. He'd always been able to relate to her on the battlefield, and she'd understood what he was thinking more than focused Scott or serene Jean.

He put his hand to his ear to switch on the communicator piece, let the rest know that at least three trucks were disabled, when he heard a whistling sound. Warren exchanged a confused look with Ororo, and she moved her hands so the clouds would move and they could see better.

When he did see the object streaking toward them, all he knew was they needed to get out of the way. He grabbed Ororo and went into a dive, wrapping his wings protectively around her. An explosion echoed, but they were clear.

He could feel his heart pounding in his ears: this was always difficult with two people. His stomach flipped in his throat, and Ororo's hair kept getting in his face. Visibility was low, which made him feel even sicker.

He pulled up at the right time, pulling his head up so he could see what where they were. It was just in time to see the second object, to jerk to the side to avoid it. This time, when it exploded, it was much, much closer.

Searing pain shot through one of his wings. As he stumbled toward the ground, he knew he hadn't gotten a direct hit. It was probably just shrapnel, but his left wing wasn't responding. Warren struggled and flapped, knowing he was on the verge of a crash landing.

"Hang on!" he yelled.

Warren fanned out his wings, hoping and praying they wouldn't be able to reload, or that they had gotten far enough away and it was hard to see them. It caused more pain to seep from his wing into the rest of his body, but it allowed him to slow himself down.

When he hit the ground, he didn't hit it hard enough to break his legs. There was pain, but he didn't think it would even warrant a splint. He pulled his wings in around himself, the last thing he needed was more things to get tangled when he rolled.

More pain snaked through his wings and he cried out. Every time he touched the ground it felt like a mailed fist was hitting his injury. Eventually he came to a stop, his head pounding and his wing throbbing. He took in a deep, shaky breath, his goggles fogging up with tears of pain and nerves.

"Are you okay?" Ororo asked her voice small.

He released her and laid on his back, tentatively spreading his wings out. God, it hurt.

"Been worse," he gasped, "You?"

She pushed herself up into a crouched position.

"I'm good," she said.

She looked over and caught sight of his wing.

"Is that what you call 'Been worse?'" she hissed.

"It's not broken," Warren said, pushing himself into a seated positioned, "Remember that time Hank had to call the avian specialist?"

"I don't care, this is still pretty bad," she said, "You're bleeding a lot."

He looked at his wing and noticed, to his surprise, she was right. Half his wing was covered in blood. He gingerly touched it and stared at the amount of red that came away on his fingers.

"Shit," he said.

Ororo moved forward, her emergency bandages already in her hands. She began wrapping them around the top of his wing, weaving it in and out of the feathers. They'd all practiced how to wrap up a regular wound, but they'd all taken turns on learning how to bandage his wings in case the occasion called for it.

And it looked like, this time, it did.

"You need to call for medical evac," she said.

"It's not that bad," he said.

"Yes, it is," Ororo said, "You just can't see it because your goggles are all fogged up."

He didn't agree entirely, but his lenses were a little blurry. Just so he could have something to work with if they started arguing, he pulled his goggles away to get a better look at his wound. As he did, he heard movement.

"Storm," he whispered.

"I hear it too," she hissed, tying off his bandage, "Keep down."

Gritting his teeth together, Warren pulled his wings in so he would make a smaller target. Ororo had one of her hands out, the whites of her eyes already starting to swallow her irises. Warren wasn't sure what she was thinking of doing, but he had the feeling the FOH were about to be in for a world of hurt.

The first one to come into their line of sight had a flashlight attached to his gun. A few seconds showed he hadn't spotted them though. It was very dark out, the clouds still giving them maximum cover. Ororo gave him a quick nod and moved forward.

Warren laboriously moved himself into a crouch, his eyes trained on the FOH member. He grinned when he saw him go down. From his angle it looked like someone had just pulled the carpet out from under his feet. Ororo had remembered her training: if they couldn't see you, get them in the feet then the throat.

He scanned the area and, when he didn't see any more of them, touched his communicator. Alex would be pissed if he waited too long before reporting back in to say he was injured.

"Havok?" he whispered, "I'm okay…ish, but I'm grounded."

"Where are you?"

He looked around for a landmark, and saw the trucks and a few trees. Warren pushed himself a little further away from the trucks and closer to the trees. He'd prefer some cover.

"About ten yards from the tree line," he said.

"Roger. What's Storm's status?"

"You might want to check up with her on that one," Warren said.

Alex gave a frustrated sigh on the other end.

"Got it. Hang tight: we'll be there soon."

Warren clicked off the communicator and looked around. Another FOH member was coming up, no doubt trying to investigate where the first one went. Warren smiled grimly to himself. Judging by the direction Ororo had gone, this one was going to be his.

He didn't go up to him like Ororo had though. He was bleeding, so he waited for the man to come up to him. When he did Warren lashed out with his foot, downing him. He pulled himself forward and punched the man as hard as he could in the face.

Something gave slightly, probably his nose, and he was down. Warren quickly disarmed him and pulled out some of the zip cuffs he kept in his belt. They had been Alex's idea once upon a time, a simple solution to make sure that, once the men regained consciousness, they wouldn't stab them in the back.

Or shoot them. Both were bad.

"Gotcha asshole," Warren muttered.

He was about to move back to his position when static crackled. Warren looked down and saw a walkie talkie on the man's belt. He grinned and unclipped it. It looked like he wouldn't be coming away from this empty-handed.

Warren took the walkie talkie and moved back to his position by the tree line. He turned the volume down, he didn't want to give his position away, and pressed it to his ear. It was just static at first, but he didn't move it away. You never knew when something would come up.

As he listened, he looked around the area. He'd have to watch his back because, while he hated to admit it, his wing probably did need to be treated. It would also weigh him down in combat and, if he didn't have to be in combat with a busted wing, then he probably shouldn't be.

"Did you find them yet?"

He grinned to himself as the voice came through the walkie.

"Negative. Not since the second blast. Did we run out of rounds for the launcher?"

"No, they just went down too fast."

That was one mystery solved.

"Do you have any idea where they went down."

"Negative."

"That's just dandy."

"Well, keep an eye out. We don't-"

His words were cut off with a scream. Warren listened with interest to the sounds of gunfire, and muffled yells. He grinned. It looked like the X-men had finally arrived.

Now all he had to do was wait until they got to him.


	42. Chapter 42

"Pull back!" Alex yelled.

Logan moved nearer to Alex. He wasn't sure exactly how Alex intended to clear a path through the operatives, but Logan knew he was concerned about a downed X-man. Logan was more concerned about the strategic implications of that: they had no air support at the moment. That would be changing soon, but it certainly made things inconvenient.

The amount of firepower that the FOH had on them was staggering. Logan had no idea how his nephew had gotten ahold of so much, but then again, his brother could often be very persuasive. Not many people had the guts to argue with that level of bloodlust, and maybe his son had inherited that.

Scott drew level with Alex. Logan was still pissed at the kid, and refused to make eye contact. Couldn't he appreciate someone who didn't want to send him to his death? Judging by his actions, Logan would be inclined to say no.

"Ready?" Alex muttered.

Scott nodded and put his hand to his goggles. Before Logan could ask what he was doing, Alex punched the air and Scott pulled back the dial. Red light shot out of Scott's goggles and Alex's fist. It cut through the night, striking some of the trucks and flipping them.

Men scattered. Alex clapped his hand on Scott's shoulder before Scott ran off.

"He should be able to find Archangel before this mess gets too complicated," Alex muttered, "He should be able to pull an evac to Beast, and Jubilee and Marvel are already looking for Storm. Now let's see if we can't end this."

Logan nodded, feeling slightly impressed despite himself. He gestured to Wade and Chris, who were nearby.

"Go crazy," he said, "But don't kill Graydon."

Wade rolled his eyes but dived into the fray. Chris followed, but at a more subdued pace. There was a smattering of gunfire, and then what looked like an explosion of colored sparks. Perhaps Scott was right and the kids really did know what they were doing.

"Do you know where he is?" asked Alex.

Logan took a deep sniff of the air. He'd had a few close calls with Graydon before, close enough to figure out what he smelt like. It was a bit like Vic, but with none of the feral overtones and some sort of aftershave he liked to use.

"Close," he said, "Follow me."

Alex fell into step behind him, and the two hurried through the assembled crowd. Every now and then the ground would light up red, and Logan would know Alex was on the job and giving him as much support as he could.

Even so, there were a lot of them. Logan hadn't been paying much attention to current events when he'd been working as a lumberjack in Canada. The world was depressing enough as it as without knowing what was happening in every single other country out there. He'd had no idea the FOH was this big.

As he slashed at one of the FOH operatives his mind wandered, not for the first time, to Kayla and Emma. Kayla didn't know everything about him: he hadn't dared tell her. However, she did know enough to be wary, enough that should have sent her far away where he couldn't hurt her.

But she hadn't and, now, in his own way, he hoped he was protecting her. She would be a target even without her relationship with him, as would her sister. Graydon might have the mental capacity to understand Emma was adopted, that it was a mere coincidence that Kayla was also a mutant.

However, Logan wouldn't put it past him to kill her just to make sure. Either that or Kayla would die protecting her sister. Emma was her last relative, and Logan knew she cared for her deeply. That made her family to him too, made him know that she had to be protected, that she could never know who her half-brother was.

How could they even be related? Emma was a sweet, determined young woman. She'd expressed a desire to be a teacher, just like her older sister, and was studying to do so. Graydon was a murdering psychopath. Logan had never met their mother: Vic wasn't the type to keep up long-term relationships, much less introduce them to the family.

He gutted the man in front of him and took a deep whiff of the air to make sure he was on the right track. It was difficult to figure out individual odors, not with so much blood. Finding his nephew was going to be difficult, but he had to find him soon if he had any hope of ending this.

"Still close?" muttered Alex, sending out another bolt.

Logan waited a moment, but he was able to get the scent again.

"Still close," he said.

Logan wasn't sure what the X-men expected him to do once he was out there on the field. He knew they had some sort of moral code they kept to and, more or less, so did he. His code, however, had its foundation based in blood.

Graydon, whether he liked it or not, was his brother's son. That made him his blood. Logan had tried to avoid a confrontation for as long as possible, since he had a good feeling how it would end. It was like he knew how any confrontation between him and his brother would end if they met again.

He would try to get through to him, but Logan didn't think that was an option. He wished he could leave this to someone else but, when it came down to it, blood was the first, and strongest, tie he had known as a child. He'd shed blood and followed his brother, who shared his, into the cold and unforgiving night.

Blood came before everything else. That was what his brother had told him, what his brother had believed. No stronger tie existed to him: everything else was transient, fleeting compared to the bond between two siblings who shared blood.

But Logan knew better. Logan knew there was a strong power in the bonds one chose, in the family and friends you were able to pick. There were bonds forged in other ways that could be just as strong, if not stronger, than if anyone shared a single drop of blood among them.

It was why he had chosen Kayla and, by association, her sister over anyone else. And he wasn't ashamed to admit that he'd chosen them over his own flesh and blood. He'd never meant to get Mystique involved, but Kayla and Emma were safe, at least temporarily, because of his actions. It was why he could never fully regret them.

He did hate the thought that Kurt was in danger because of him. The boy hadn't seemed to want anything to do with this, been peaceful. If Mystique had had her way, blood would have never touched his hands. It was plain to see that something traumatic had happened to him, although Logan had no idea what that was.

It was on him to make this right, just like it had been on him to make sure that nothing happened to Kurt. At least that had been one child who had had the sense to stay on the sidelines. His old comrade in arms shouldn't have to experience the loss of a child when he could help it. He didn't think that blood ties were the strongest ones out there, but he did believe there was a strength to them, one that could be exploited or used to empower.

All blood meant to him now was that the person was his responsibility. In this case, it meant that Graydon was his to try to talk down and, if necessary, take down. It would be another sin to add to a long list, but he couldn't put any fleeting ideas of redemption ahead of protecting those he cared about.

It was time he started protecting his own. By whatever means necessary.

* * *

Kurt was cradling the walkie talkie in his hands. Amanda sat beside him, silent. He'd been listening ever since the last of the X-men had filed out, and Amanda was no longer sure being able to listen to the battle was any kind of mercy.

Ever since they'd heard the transmission that Warren was hurt, Kurt had just started staring at the walkie talkie in front of him. His teeth were worrying his lip, a habit that they both shared, and one she knew meant he was upset. Amanda wondered if there was anything she could say or do to make him feel better. In his mind, those people were out there, fighting and, quite possibly, dying for him.

The situation wasn't his fault and, on some level, she felt he knew that. But, on a much more real level, she had the feeling that he just couldn't pass by on the other side of the road when he saw the Israelite.

"I can't do nozing," he said.

The words were so sudden that Amanda started. He looked up at her with his golden eyes, pleading for her to understand.

"I...I can't..." he said.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He didn't fight her, just rested his head on her shoulder. There was only one thing she could offer him now, and she hoped it would work. While she had been raised in the same church as Kurt, and she believed in the same God and savior, she'd always felt a little jealous of his faith.

Kurt had the kind of faith that would move mountains though, the kind that came from somewhere deep within the soul. It was something to aspire to, but it was somehow uniquely Kurt's. No matter what life threw at him, he always clung to that.

She hoped it would give him an answer now.

"Almighty and eternal God, those who take refuge in you will be glad," she whispered, "and forever will shout for joy."

Kurt swallowed.

"Protect zese soldiers as zey discharge zeir duties," he whispered, "Protect them with the shield of your strength and keep them safe from all evil and harm."

"May the power of your love enable them to return home in safety, that with all who love them, they may ever praise you for your loving care," Amanda said, "We ask this through Christ our Lord."

"Amen," Kurt said.

They remained silent for a moment more, as the sound of distant gunfire came over the walkie talkie.

"Zat is a prayer for soldiers," he said, "Is zat vhat zey are now? Vhat ve all are? Not children, not students, soldiers?"

Amanda ran a hand through his hair. She thought about everything she had been through in the last few months, everything Kurt had been through.

"I don't know about whether or not we're all soldiers," she said.

She couldn't speak for the X-men, but she certainly didn't think she was a soldier. Amanda saw herself as a survivor, someone who would do everything they could to keep living, to hold onto what they had. Maybe she only had the man in her arms now, but he was worth protecting.

"I know we're not normal," she said.

Normality hadn't really been an option. Not since she'd begun creating more and more ties to Kurt. She'd decided she was going to dedicate part of her life to him and, unfortunately, no life with someone like Kurt could ever really be normal.

She continued threading her hand through his hair, wishing she had some sort of wisdom she could give him.

"But I don't think any of us are children any more," she murmured.


	43. Chapter 43

Scott swore in frustration. How did these guys find someone who would sell them machine guns? He hadn't seen people this well-armed in a very long time. The only people who could even come close to these guys was the military. Storming that secret base had been the hardest night of his career as an X-man, and they'd come back with broken bones, scrapes, and Jubilee had ended up with a concussion.

Usually they'd had cover stories about falling down the stairs, but for this one they'd let out that they'd been in a car accident. It had been winter, so the story that they had been driving and skidded on some ice seemed reasonable enough.

This wasn't as bad as that night, but it was still difficult. He was also trying to find Warren in all this mess, which wasn't good. People seemed to be pressing in on him on all sides, and the tree line seemed so far away.

He dodged a barrage of machine gunfire and put his hand up to his goggles. The world lit up and he knocked three of them back. He heard more movement and dropped down to the ground. Bullets cut through the air above his head.

Scott dug his hands into the ground and used them to pivot himself. He touched the dial on his goggles and blasted the man's feet out from under him. When he was down he sent out another blast, knocking him out.

He didn't wait to do more though. Scott jumped to his feet and started running. Protocol would've been to cuff them, but he didn't have time for that. Warren needed his help to get out of there, and he needed to get him to Hank.

His injury couldn't be too bad though, not if Ororo had had time to bandage it. She was really good at it, almost as good as Jean. No doubt Warren would be waiting for him when he got there, complaining about being taken out of the action too early. He had a habit of letting everyone know when he was pissed about the way something had turned out.

A smile crossed his face. It was good to know that Warren was on his side again, that everything was okay. He wished he was fighting beside him instead of trying to help him leave the field, but that was how combat went sometimes.

The tree line didn't seem like it was too far away now. He grinned and put on an extra burst of speed. He was almost there, and then he would be able to focus on getting Warren out of the active war zone. Piece of cake.

Gunfire ripped into his leg. He cried out and fell down. Scott caught himself so he didn't fall flat on his face but he gasped, trying to overcome the pain like Alex had taught him, to calm his breathing and focus on his surroundings.

It allowed him to roll over and blast his attacker. The FOH gunman fell to the floor, slumped. Scott pushed himself up, gasping and trying to concentrate. He really didn't want to look down at his leg, to see how bad the damage was, but he knew he needed to get it under control.

He looked down and saw that he'd been shot three times through the calves. The bullets had gone through cleanly, which was good. There was a minimal amount of blood, but he needed to stop them before anything else happened.

Scott took out a bandage from his emergency medical kit and wrapped it up. He got to his feet, using his good leg as support. He was left limping, and it hurt like hell, but he could still move. That was good: it meant it hadn't hit a tendon.

He limped on, hoping he could still get to Warren. Maybe, between the two of them, they could limp back to Hank together. Scott wouldn't be good for the advance now, but he knew he would at least make a halfway decent guard.

And, optimistically, once he reached Warren, they would have a story they could tell the other X-men later about how two guys were able to limp back to Hank, swaying like two drunks. Scott, who had never drunk a drop in his life, forced himself to grin at the thought.

* * *

From where he was, Warren could see everything. He could hear the gunfire, sure enough, but it didn't concern him. There were flashes of red, colorful sparks in the air. He smiled to himself. It looked like everyone was in good form that night, working together, like a team.

He wished he could be out there helping them, but he wasn't dumb enough to do so. Alex had given them a crash course on which injuries they could safely ignore on the field and under what circumstances. Warren knew his motion was limited, and the more he moved, the more he seemed to bleed.

No, he had called for a medical evacuation for a reason. He was still in good enough condition to defend himself, which was why Ororo had left him by himself. But he wasn't cleared to fight, and might not be for a while.

It had been a good ten or fifteen minutes, twenty at most, since he had called in the evacuation. The fighting looked pretty thick, and he knew he would be fine until they got to him. Until then, he just had to shelter in place for a bit.

As he watched the fight, he noticed something was wrong with what he was seeing. Warren blinked to clear his vision. It was starting to blur, and that was never a good sign. He looked over at his wing. The bandage Ororo had helped him apply was completely soaked red. That was never, ever a good thing.

He yanked his goggles down around his neck and took a closer look. It looked like the injury was much deeper than he had originally thought. It would certainly account for the blurring, but it didn't give him any sense of security.

Clearing his throat, Warren touched his earpiece.

"Hey, um, guys?" he said.

There wasn't an immediate response. The fighting really did look like it was pretty thick.

"Sorry to bug you..." he murmured, "But I'm having...I think my vision's going a little wonky..."

"Cyclops where are you?" Havok hissed.

So Scott was coming to get him. Good. Warren felt the insane urge to giggle, and recognized it for what it was.

"Guys..."

"Making my way towards Archangel," Scott said, "I've been shot, so I'm gonna be a little slow..."

"Shot?"

"Nothing major," said Scott, "Just got my leg."

"I'm getting a little...I think hysterical..." Warren said.

Alex began shouting on the other end. The words were hard to make out, but he could tell Alex was seriously worried. Warren let go of his earpiece and clamped his hands over the wound. He realized then that the bandage was a little undone. He must have jostled it when he took the FOH operative down. It had allowed the injury to bleed more than he was aware.

He felt the urge to laugh again, but it was tempered by the knowledge that he could very well be going into shock. He just hoped Scott wasn't in a place where the fighting was thick, that he would be able to get him to Hank soon.

"Archangel? Talk to me."

Good. He was still able to hear.

"Here," he said.

"Look," Alex said, "Can you get to the point on the road we discussed before we left? Beast should be there. A couple FOH guys looped 'round and tried to get past him, but he should be finished with them by the time you arrive. You'll probably meet Cyclops en route."

Warren got up, ready to move, but immediately lost his balance. He managed to roll before it got too bad though.

"Sorry..." he said, "Havok...I'm not sure..."

He swallowed. It was time to tell the truth.

"I can't," Warren murmured.

* * *

When Kurt heard the words over the radio, Amanda felt him stiffen. He pulled away from her arms and stared at the walkie talkie. Amanda reached out to him again, trying to ask him what he was thinking, but he moved away from her touch.

While she didn't know much about the X-men, she knew Warren was Kurt's friend. The two had somehow managed to form a friendship and, although Amanda knew he cared about everyone that night, something happening to Warren would hit him particularly hard.

And now, from the looks of things, Warren was in a lot of trouble. Kurt clambered to his feet, his eyes still glued on the walkie talkie and his tail brushing the floor. It kept swinging back and forth, as though he were thinking.

Amanda waited, swallowing nervously as she looked at her lover. She didn't like his stance, didn't like the tension. Growing up, he'd always been the prankster. Even if she hadn't seen much of that lately, Kurt had been the one who was quick to crack a joke, to look at the lighter side of a situation.

This was so unlike him it was a little scary, but, if Amanda was honest, she'd done something that probably would have scared him if he'd been with her. He turned to her, and she recognized the look in his eyes. Part of her wanted to argue, but even she knew it would be selfish to do so, not to mention pointless.

So, instead of arguing, she dug inside her pocket for a hair tie. Kurt watched, his expression confused as she pulled back her long hair into a ponytail. Once she was done she gave him a defiant look.

"Whither thou goest," she said.

It wasn't a request.

* * *

Warren was having serious trouble seeing. He didn't like to think about how much blood he'd lost in the past few minutes, and he really felt like screaming to someone. Every time he tried to speak it either came out as a giggle or something else though.

God, this was not how he wanted to go. Not because of a wound he'd improperly bandaged, bleeding out on the ground. More than anything, Warren did not want to go like this. Not when there was so much left to do, not when he was only seventeen.

He forced himself up into a better seated position, trying to remember things to do to stay awake. He was still applying pressure to his wing, but he didn't think it was helping. All that happened, from the looks of things, was that blood had gotten on his gloves.

His vision entered another shade of blurriness, and he fought the urge to scream. He squeezed the wound a little tighter, trying to use the pain to ground him. It was an unpleasant, slippery experience, but he was still awake when it was over.

Something like a soft explosion went off next to his ear, but Warren didn't pay any attention to it. No flames had been produced, so he didn't think it was a grenade or an FOH member. He had bigger things to worry about.

A hand touched his shoulder. Blearily, Warren turned. It was dark, and he couldn't quite make out who it was. They hadn't tried to kill him yet, so he figured it still wasn't an FOH agent coming to get him.

He still had no idea who it was though.

"Scott?" he murmured.

"Nein. But do not vorry: I vill get him on my next trip."

Without another word, there was another soft explosion, and Warren tasted sulphur.


	44. Chapter 44

"It's weird being back in here," Raven said.

Charles managed to smile at her as he finished getting the plane ready for takeoff.

"We started keeping by the biology cabins when the students came back," he said, "Although Hank has been telling me of some interesting plans he has of building a secret hanger underneath the basketball court."

"Sounds like Hank," she said.

She ran her fingers over some of the dials. Charles wondered if she was remembering the Blackbird's maiden voyage, the only one she had ever been on. What part of it was she remembering? The tense beginning, with Hank walking into the hanger covered in blue fur, or its disastrous end?

"Do you remember that first time we were in here," she said, her voice ponderous, "And Sean got his hair caught in the harness?"

Charles blinked. Raven looked up at him, almost tentatively and, briefly, he saw the girl he'd grown up with. He had to fight the urge to gasp.

"Erik had to free him," he said.

"Yeah," Raven said, "And Alex laughed so hard Hank said he was going to pull something."

Charles laughed because, in all honesty, he had all but forgotten that memory. Raven sat down next to him, slowly buckling herself in.

"I've been away for a while," she said.

The words weren't exactly sad, but they weren't happy either. Charles looked at her as he got ready to launch the plane.

"Nothing like coming home after a long absence," he said quietly.

* * *

Kurt knew Warren wouldn't have a good reaction to being teleported. He'd gotten nauseated easily when he'd done it before. However, he hadn't really seen another option. His friend was bleeding out, and he needed to be removed from the field fast. That seemed to be the only important thing.

So, with little thought other than getting him off the field, Kurt had teleported to the area where Alex had said Hank was. He'd been listening to the walkie talkies all night, and he figured he'd be able to find it fairly well. Amanda had also paid attention to the area when she was driving them up, so she'd helped guide him.

When they arrived, at first he felt immense satisfaction. He could see Hank from where they were, wiping sweat off his brow and kicking away several FOH members. They hadn't been too far off.

His satisfaction had immediately turned sour when Warren threw up next to him. He sank to the ground, trying to support him. He'd never thought Warren weighed much but, as he sank down to the ground. It felt like he weighed a ton.

"Easy Varren," Kurt said, "Easy."

"Not a cow..." gasped Warren.

He giggled then, and Kurt looked over at Amanda. He didn't like her expression. Neither of them knew too much about first aide beyond dealing with sprains and sore muscles. They both knew this wasn't good though.

She walked to Warren's free side and threw his arm around her shoulder. Kurt assisted her in helping him up, and they carried him over to Hank. Hank turned at their approach, looking caught between surprise and concern.

Then he squared his shoulders and took command in a way Kurt had never seen him do before.

"Set him down," he said, "We need to get a transfusion going."

Kurt did so, crouching down next to him. Some vomit was still gathering in the corner of his friend's lips, his eyes fluttering. He swallowed, worry for his friend beginning deep inside his chest. Had he gotten there in time? Was his friend going to be alright?

"Make sure you keep him awake," Hank ordered.

Kurt nodded and tried to think of something to do. Inspiration immediately fled from him, and Kurt sighed in frustration. In the end he decided he settled for tugging on Warren's hair as hard as he could.

His friend's eyes opened.

"Jerk," Warren muttered.

"Keep avake," said Kurt.

"Easy for you to say," he said.

Hank came over, an IV, blood bag, and other supplies in hand. He immediately put them down and put on a pair of plastic gloves. Warren's eyes were fluttering, and Kurt pulled his hair again. His eyes fluttered, but they didn't truly open until Hank jabbed the needle into a vein on the back of Warren's hand.

It was efficient and Kurt wondered how many times Hank had done this to Warren and the other X-men. It wasn't really very comforting, but it did mean that, no matter what, Warren was in capable, experienced hands.

"Owwww," Warren moaned.

"Kurt, could you please move?" asked Hank.

Kurt scuttled off to the side and Hank crouched by Warren's wing, gingerly touching the injury. Warren breathed deeply between his teeth.

"You have a blood transfusion station?" asked Amanda.

"Yes," Hank said, "The X-men rotate donating blood in the days leading up to a mission, or once a month. Blood doesn't ship well. I also have a friend who donates O, and that's saved us more than once."

"A friend?" asked Amanda.

Hank blushed.

"Gimme a C, gimme an A," Warren sang.

"Shut up," Hank said.

He pushed back a few feathers from Warren's injury.

"This is a lot deeper than you made it sound," he said.

"Eh," Warren said.

"Brilliant," sighed Hank.

He took out a syringe and pulled it back.

"I'm going to give you some morphine for the pain," Hank said, "You get one shot, understood?"

Warren shrugged. Hank jabbed the needle in his arm and Warren twitched slightly, but didn't struggle. When he was done, Hank rewrapped the wound and looked at the blood bag. Kurt realized it had depleted significantly in the past few minutes.

"I only have two more of these," Hank said, "And Cyclops is going to need some too."

"Cyclops?" asked Amanda.

"Scott," sighed Hank.

"Vhat happened to him?" asked Kurt, worried.

"He was supposed ta be rescuing me," Warren slurred, "I think he got injured...or distracted...something..."

"He was shot three times in the leg," said Hank.

"Yeah...that..."

Kurt got up.

"I'm going to go get him," he said.

Hank's hand shot out and grabbed Kurt's arm.

"No, you're not," Hank said.

"But Scott-" Kurt said.

"I'm not sure you understand the situation," said Hank, "I'm not trying to be cruel, but Kurt, there was a reason we didn't want you out here. It's bad enough that Mystique's on her way, but she's completely necessary."

"I am...I am not sure vhat-" Kurt said.

"Kurt, you're the one Graydon wants," said Hank.

"Yeah, we got that already," Amanda said.

Hank gave her a quick look.

"I'm not sure you understand what that means," he said.

"I understand you are using it as an excuse to keep me from helping someone," Kurt snapped.

He felt like teleporting, even if it did mean bringing Hank along for the ride.

"Listen to me," he said, "if he knows you're out here, he's going to tear apart the battlefield looking for you. He's going to go crazy, and he's already packing more men and firepower than we expected. It's not going to go well if he sees you tonight Kurt."

Kurt suddenly swallowed. They hadn't been keeping him out of the arena for his safety. They'd also wanted to keep him off the battlefield to keep themselves safe, to stop the situation from escalating to where they couldn't contain it.

Even so, he couldn't just leave.

"But ve can't leave Scott," said Kurt.

"I'm sure someone's going to get him," said Hank.

He sounded uncertain, and that was all Kurt needed.

"I'm going back," he said.

"Kurt-" Hank began.

"I wouldn't argue," said Amanda, "I know that expression, and it means he's going to keep arguing until you give or he gets fed up and teleports anyway."

"Not with me holding his arm like this," Hank said, "He'd teleport me too and ruin Warren's chances of recovering."

Kurt looked at him in surprise. How did he know that? Hank gave him a calm look in return.

"You're not the first teleporter I've met," he said, "Trust me when I say that knowing this one little fact has saved my life more times that I'm willing to count."

He wanted to ask about teleporters Hank had mentioned, but that was a story for another time.

Something about the sentence seemed ominous, and Kurt swallowed.

"Hank, I cannot just leave Scott," he said.

"I know, and I appreciate that," Hank said, "I do. But you can't go back out there. It's incredibly dangerous."

"But Scott is out zere!" Kurt argued.

Hank furrowed his brow in frustration.

"Scott is trained and, unlike Warren, I think he'll be able to apply a satisfactory bandage," Hank said.

"I resemble that remark..." Warren muttered.

"He vas shot!" Kurt said, "How does zat-?"

"He'll be able to stabilize himself until we get there," said Hank.

She shook her head.

"And don't worry Hank," she said, "I'll be right beside him."

Kurt swallowed. He wanted Amanda with him so much. While he hated the thought of her in danger, he had also come to appreciate her strength and presence. She had been his second pair of eyes on the field, and he'd felt safe with her.

But, when it came down to it, she couldn't come with him.

"Nein."

Amanda stiffened.

"Kurt, remember what I said when you decided to leave the cabins?" she said, "I said-"

"You are type O, ja?"

She paused and Hank looked up at her.

"Are you?" asked Hank.

Amanda nodded, not saying anything. Her eyes locked with Kurt's.

"You want me to stay here and donate, don't you?" she asked.

"I vould, but I am AB," Kurt said, "Is Varren AB?"

"He is actually," said Hank.

Kurt's heart sank. This was just about to become more difficult.

"But Scott isn't," Hank continued, "I'll use up most of my O on Warren, he needs it right now, but if I were able to get it from you Amanda..."

Amanda bit her lip. She looked back at Kurt.

"Making the responsible decision sucks," she said.

"I know," Kurt said.

She gave a brief nod and then looked at Hank.

"Scott was headed to the tree line," he said, "That's the last contact we had with him. I'm having trouble installing trackers into these uniforms, but I'd say start looking around there. And for God's sake, don't let Graydon see you."

Kurt nodded, already feeling his throat start to go dry. It was very likely he was about to make a mistake. However, he didn't really believe it could be a true mistake, not when he was saving someone's life.

He looked over at Amanda, who was taking deep breaths.

"I can take care of myself," he said.

Instead of responding, Amanda walked forward and grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss. Their teeth clicked and Kurt was briefly reminded of the night he'd fled Germany. His heart seized at the thought, remembering the taste of blood, the feeling of sweat on his skin.

This time he didn't break the skin of her lips though, and the fear which had pumped in his heart that night was all but gone. He pulled away and grinned at her.

"You von't even know I'm gone," he said.

She snorted.

"Kurt, I always know when you're gone," she said.

Kurt gave her a sad smile, and then teleported.


	45. Chapter 45

Logan knew Alex was caught up with something, something had gone wrong, but he really couldn't be bothered. His nephew's scent was getting fainter with each passing minute, and he knew he was going to have to strike out, and strike out quickly, if he was going to end this.

So he left Alex to shout orders and plowed on. Bullets were peppering him, blood clotting on his clothes, but it wasn't anything he couldn't recover from. He'd survived a nuclear explosion once: bullets were nothing to him.

He finally saw his nephew toward the back of the group, calmly talking on what looked like a walkie talkie. He looked like a businessman walking down Wall Street, a look which was completely out of place in the battlefield. It was completely out of place on the battlefield.

One of his men shouted when he saw Logan, and Graydon turned, a glint of something that Logan had known almost his entire life. It was very feline in nature, and hungry, the look of a predator taking in the look of unwilling prey.

Shivers went down his spine. It appeared that Graydon was very much his father's son.

"Over there!" one of them shouted.

The gunfire began coming fast and furious. They all had automatic weapons, and he'd have to go find out whoever had sold a hate group heavy-powered fire arms. Logan moved through it all, slashing at everyone in his path. He could still feel the pain there, somewhere on the edges of his consciousness. Every now and then black spots started to swim in front of his eyes, a side affect of losing blood so quickly and the pain his brain refused to acknowledge.

Any time he felt he was in danger of passing out, every time he could feel the edge coming, he could hear a soft voice whispering in his ear.

 _"Why is the moon lonely?"_

And then he would remember why he was doing this, why he couldn't lose. There was more than his unending life to consider. Kayla was waiting for him to come back, worried and confused about why she and her sister were in danger.

When he returned, he would explain everything. Everything except Emma being related to Graydon. There was no reason for her to know that. She only had a vague image of who her mother was, and he didn't want to let her know something like this.

His claws found the neck of one of the last men, and the area went silent. The only noise he could hear were the sounds of battle happening all around them, but, where he was, there seemed to be a pocket of silence.

He looked up and saw Graydon watching him with that eerily familiar look.

"Hey," Logan rasped.

Graydon tilted his head in acknowledgement, but didn't say anything. He seemed to like he was looking for something.

"I think," said Logan, "We need ta talk."

"Not really," said Graydon, "You're here to kill me, aren't you?"

"Not if I don't hafta," he said.

Graydon laughed.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you don't intend to," he said, "But, at the end of the day, you and my father are both killers. I've read about some of the missions you did, both inside and outside the confines of the battlefield."

"Different life," Logan growled.

His nephew snorted.

"Oh yes, I'm sure that's what you'd like to believe," he said, "But that's not who you are, is it? Just how long do you think you'd have been satisfied playing Little House on the Prairie with that school teacher and her sister?"

Logan froze, and Graydon chuckled.

"Yes, I know about them," he said, "I know quite a bit about the two mutant sisters you've taken a shine to. Or rather, I know about the woman you're screwing and the one you treat like a pet."

Logan lunged forward, only to have his feet give out. He caught himself before falling on his face, but his arms trembled with the effort. What was happening?

"Yes, like that do you?" asked Graydon, "I thought you might want to do me in personally, given all the trouble you've given me over the past few months, had the men around me put enough tranquilizers in their ammunition to drop a rhino. You do seem to enjoy being able to take a lot of punishment."

He knelt in front of him.

"I know I can't kill you," he said, "I don't think anyone's found a way yet. I heard you might not even die if I cut off your head. Tell me if you think that's natural, if you think that you and the rest of your species have any human qualities in them."

His nephew shrugged.

"I'm inclined to think they don't personally," he said, "But, like any animal, you can be caged. Not killed, no, but caged in a place where you might wish to be dead."

"Come a little closer and I'll show ya what death is like," Logan growled.

Graydon smirked.

"Oh Logan, you really don't understand do you?" he asked, "Your death is going to change everything for me. You're very well known in the circles I run in. Your death, or perceived death, will allow me the time I need to hunt down the rest of my family."

Logan managed to spit at his feet, but his tongue felt too thick to use.

"I can have scientists examine you too," Graydon said, "Figure out a definitive way to kill my father. I'll be coming for him soon enough."

Logan managed to regain some control of his tongue. He needed to say this.

"What?" rasped Logan, "Daddy's boy afraid of claws?"

Graydon's expression soured.

"I'd be a little nicer to me if I were you," he said, "I won't lie: I haven't found the sisters yet. Or rather, I did find them, and I discovered a few interesting things before you spirited them away."

He smiled, the smile thin and cruel.

"Mostly about a few purchases Kayla made before she went up into the cabin. My spies were watching your little playmate and her bratty sister very close," he said, "Now, I'm not a woman myself, but for some reason I think that pregnancy tests are only really for special occasions."

Logan stared, his heart thudding in his chest. No. That couldn't be right. She would have told him before he left if she thought he was pregnant. Then again, if she didn't know for sure, would she have told him? What if she had only suspected?

Oh God no.

"Rest assured," Graydon said, "Once we finish here, I'll make sure to find her. Her and her sister."

He leaned down slightly.

"And I'll rip her apart piece by piece to make sure your spawn never sees daylight, to make sure I don't have another so-called relative polluting this world," Graydon said, "And I'll have you watch, just so you can know, just so you never forget."

* * *

It was only when Kurt arrived at the tree line when he realized just how vague his directions were. Warren had been a bit more specific, and he'd had Amanda there to help him. Now Kurt was running blind in a battle zone, hoping he wasn't just managing to get himself more lost and, ultimately, shot.

So he'd teleported a few more times, terribly aware that he was getting further and further away from his end destination. It would mean multiple teleportations to get them back, but he didn't really see any way around it. He just hoped Scott's reaction to being teleported was better than Warren's.

When he finally did find Scott, he looked more surprised than thankful. Kurt wasn't surprised or hurt by that fact: he knew Warren probably would've had a similar expression if he'd found him in a more lucid state.

"No qvestions please," Kurt said, "I just vant to get you back und patched up, ja?"

"It's only a level two injury," Scott muttered.

Kurt had to pause at that. They actually organized their injuries into categories? Not only that, but Scott was shot in the leg and he was acting as though he should just be able to get over it. Just what were they teaching them?

And category two? How many categories were there? He wasn't going to ask what exactly a level two category was though. He'd have to save that one for later. He sincerely hoped Warren's was classified as being much higher than two.

"O-kay, but you are coming vith me," Kurt said.

He put Scott's arm around his shoulder and looked around. He'd need a good hopping off point, and it needed to be somewhere where there wasn't a lot of gunfire. He scanned the area, seeing the short bursts of light which followed every blast.

However, there seemed to be a place in the back where there wasn't any action. That would have to work.

"I hope you are okay vith sulphur," Kurt said.

"What?" asked Scott, "Why would I-?"

He teleported to the area he'd seen and, for a moment, Kurt was convinced he'd made a good decision. The area was clear of active shooters, and there didn't seem to be anyone else around. It turned out he might not be so bad at this tactical stuff after all.

Then he took a second look and saw Logan lying face down on the ground. It startled Kurt: Logan had always seemed so unflappable. Then he saw the man crouching next to him, who had just looked up, no doubt startled by the loud noise.

Kurt was taken aback by the pure hate he saw there. It was like being stabbed with a knife, one that went straight to his heart. The man got to his feet slowly, his eyes fixed on Kurt, his lips pulled back into a sneer.

He thought he saw him go for his gun. Kurt thought about teleporting again, but he couldn't just leave Logan. Maybe he could teleport a few feet to the right, but he'd be dragging around his injured friend if that happened. If he went back to Hank and dropped Scott off before coming back, anything could happen to Logan.

The decision was made for him when a beam of light pushed the man back, knocking him onto the ground.

"We need to get out of here, right now," Scott said, his hand still on his goggles, "Think you can teleport him and me?"

"Um, ja, ja," Kurt babbled.

He walked over to where Logan was. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head, and he looked like he was about to be sick.

"Jesus," said Scott, "What did they do to you?"

Kurt winced. He knew he was on the battlefield, but he kept having to fight the urge not to tell people to take the Lord's name in vain. When things had calmed down a bit that could be a priority again. For now he knew he just had to focus on the path ahead of him.

He reached out and grabbed Logan's wrist. Kurt got ready to teleport and the man got back to his feet. The rage was back in his eyes in full force, and Kurt shuddered. He had a strange feeling about who this man might be, a man who could've been his brother if things were different.

But things weren't and, as Graydon Creed looked at Kurt, Kurt was glad Graydon was only his brother in Christ. He saw Graydon go for his gun again, but then Kurt teleported, and the world was enveloped in smoke.


	46. Chapter 46

When Kurt teleported back into the clearing, Amanda couldn't hold back her sigh of relief. She was feeling a little light headed after giving blood, and the granola bars Hank had given her hadn't really kicked in yet.

She was a little surprised when she saw Logan along with Scott, but she supposed Kurt had found him while he was out and about. Warren pushed himself up when he saw Scott. He'd become a bit more lucid in the past few minutes, but the morphine had clearly kicked in.

"Hail the conquering hero," Warren sang.

Scott raised his eyebrows.

"You've had morphine, haven't you?" he asked.

"He has," Hank said, "And judging by your injuries, you need some too."

Scott gave a frustrated sigh, but he winced when Hank helped him down.

"Good job doing up your bandage, unlike someone," Hank said.

"Hey, Storm did it for me," said Warren.

"I suspect she meant for you to do the final adjustments," said Hank.

He looked from Scott to Logan. Kurt was helping him up into a seated position. Now that she could get a better look at him, Amanda could see that Logan was covered in blood, and his shirt had been torn to shreds.

The realization that he'd been shot so many times his shirt had been torn apart made Amanda shudder.

"Gut Gott," Kurt said.

Amanda agreed. Hank looked significantly less bothered.

"One of Logan's mutations is his ability to heal," he said, "You'd be surprised at the amount of punishment he can take."

He frowned as he looked at Logan.

"He looks...rather out of it," he said after a moment.

"Guns had tranqs," Logan grunted.

Amanda drew back. She had thought he was unconscious. She'd heard rumors that special forces members could sleep with their eyes open and, due to his unresponsiveness, she figured that meant they could pass out with their eyes open too.

She wasn't the only one. Hank looked startled, but he quickly turned away and began to take out some syringes.

"Do you need any-?" he began.

"Pain meds don't work on me," Logan said.

He pushed himself up, only to nearly fall again.

"Gonna be a few minutes til this wears off," he said, "Yer gonna wanna call some guys to come up here."

"Why's that?" asked Hank.

"Cause Graydon saw Kurt," Logan spat, "He's gonna be lookin for him now."

Hank looked at Kurt with a mixture of anger and dismay. Kurt shrank back.

"So zat vas Graydon," he said.

"Yeah," Logan said, "And now...he's gonna stop...thinkin about me. He's gonna be thinkin about you now...and I don't know how much o this shit's in my system."

Amanda pushed herself up and walked over to Kurt. He didn't look too concerned, just thoughtful. Amanda wished he would be concerned for himself, even if it was only every now and then. Sometimes she wondered if he could even begin to understand how valuable he was to them, to her.

Kurt was selfless by nature, but she wished that selflessness allowed a little selfishness sometimes. Every now and then she wished he would think about her, and how she would feel if something happened to him. These were bitter thoughts, and she hated them. She couldn't help but feel them sometimes, and wonder if, just maybe, she would have to have a word with him later about it.

A humming filled the air, one that was irritatingly familiar to Amanda.

"Vhat is zat?" asked Kurt.

"It's a plane," Amanda said.

Hank sighed, looking relieved.

"Looks like Charles and Mystique have finally gotten here," he said.

* * *

Mystique touched the edge of the control panel as they approached the battleground.

"So many of these are different," she said.

"Hank wanted to make sure I could fly and that a co-pilot could take over at a moment's notice in case something happened to the pilot," Charles said, "It's gone through several different designs, and it seems like Hank tweaks it every few weeks."

Mystique smiled. That sounded like Hank, or at least like the Hank she had known and flirted with when she was a teen. She'd seen the somber, thoughtful man he'd become. It was one more thing that was unfamiliar to her in this place.

She began chewing her tongue. She wondered what Charles thought of all of this. He'd been glad to see her, certainly, but she knew this was difficult for him. She hadn't talked to him in years, and the only reason she was there now was because of her son.

And that was another problem. Kurt was still back at the cabins with Amanda and, after this, she knew she had to face him. If he hadn't forgiven her, if he hadn't let her know there was a road back, she probably could've pretended she was still doing the right thing by staying out of his life.

But he had made it very clear he wanted her to be in his life. She was sure it must matter to him that she had abandoned him, no matter how many good intentions she'd had. It must matter to him, at least a little bit.

He was pushing it away though, because there was something that mattered more: her. At first Mystique had been dumbfounded, because she had never experienced that before, someone loving her that much.

And then she'd realized that, yes, she had experienced that before. She'd experienced that when a little boy invited her into his family, when he said she could follow her own path, and when he eventually let her make what she now understood was a cataclysmic decision on the White House lawn.

It had taken her years to realize it, but it was about time that she did. Kurt had proved that it was never to at least to try and reach the people she loved. It was never too late to reach out, because you never knew what the response would be.

Originally, she had planned to never make contact with Kurt. She'd hoped Graydon would be stopped before they arrived at Westchester. Mystique had prayed she wouldn't have to face her brother, that she could save them and slip away, unseen and unknown.

That was impossible now and, for the first time, she realized she was glad it was.

"Now," Charles said, "When we switch on the lights it should decrease visibility significantly for the people on the ground. We'll need to call it in ahead of time to make sure everyone's in a position to take advantage of it."

She nodded and placed her hand near the switch. While she'd never actually seen this tactic used, she'd heard of police employing similar methods. She supposed Alex had probably heard about it while he was in the military, although it didn't sound like something they would use in Vietnam.

"This is the professor," Charles said calmly, turning a dial on the control panel, "Havok, are you all in position?"

"I can't find Logan," said Alex, sounding frustrated.

"I have him," Hank said.

"How the hell did he get all the way back there with you?" Alex asked, sounding surprised.

"I'll explain later, but I have Archangel and Cyclops with me too," said Hank, "We'll be good as soon as you give the signal."

Alex laughed over the intercom, but it sounded more bitter than anything.

"Fine," he said, "Storm, Jubilee, Marvel, tell me when you've found a safe position. Chris and Deadpool...just say something."

"All clear," Chris said.

"All good over here lava breath," Deadpool said.

Mystique imagined Alex gritting his teeth in frustration. She turned her head toward Charles.

"Why does Jubilee go by her name on the field?" she asked.

Charles reached up and began fiddling with some of the dials. She knew it was difficult to keep the plane hovering in one position.

"Her full name is Jubilation, so technically she isn't going by her real name," he said, "Her argument was that, given her powers, no one would think it was odd if she was shooting what looked like fireworks and was called that."

"And you agreed with that?" asked Mystique.

"Not entirely," admitted Charles, "But it actually does seem to work. I mean, if you hadn't talked to her earlier tonight, would you have known her real name was Jubilee?"

Mystique thought for a moment. She heard Jean and Ororo check in while she did.

"No," she said.

"Then there you go," he said.

"Jubilee, checking in," Jubilee piped up.

"Everyone good Beast?" asked Alex.

"Everyone's good over here," Hank said, "You have the go ahead professor."

Charles looked over at Mystique, and she reached up for some of the switches.

"Three...two...one."

Her fingers flipped the switch, and the lights went on.

* * *

A sharp orange color lit up the back of Alex's eyes. He'd managed to get behind some cover a few minutes earlier, and he was able to ride out the first blast in relative safety. They hadn't figured out how to shoot through rocks yet.

When the orange subsided he turned back to the men he was fighting. They were all blinking, rubbing their eyes and swearing. He put out his hands and began mowing them down. He knew something similar was happening to the rest of the FOH.

It was an old tried and true method, but it was only used for fighting at night. The bright lights on the Blackbird created temporary blindness, which was made worse by the fact that their eyes, after adjusting to a very bright flash, now had to adjust to darkness.

It was a little difficult for them too, but the difference was that they'd been prepared for it. Closing their eyes gave them an advantage, one that could last anywhere from forty-five seconds to a full minute. It might not seem like a lot, but a great deal could happen in a minute.

He leapt forward and began shooting down as many of them as he could. Many of them hadn't even been able to go for their guns yet and, again, it gave them an advantage. He thought he could see Wade and Chris several feet away from him. There were sparks and electricity in the air, and he could hear several meaty sounds. Alex decided he probably didn't want to know what caused that.

Alex began scanning the area for the girls. With all of the boys injured, they were the ones he had to rejoin now. He knew they were never going to let Scott and Warren live this down, and he had to smile when he thought of that.

Besides that, it looked like they were winning. The group of FOH soldiers had been severely reduced, and he figured they were making good time. In a few minutes most of them would be unconscious. After that it was just the long work of zip cuffing them and figuring out what they hell they were going to do with them.

An engine roared to life next to him. Alex managed to leap out of the way just as a truck nearly barreled into him. He rolled and got back on his feet, sending a blast at the back of it. The truck swerved to avoid it at the last minute, and the resulting blast knocked over a tree.

Alex got ready to give off another blast, but the truck was out of range. At first, he thought it was fleeing back to the main road. However, by the way it was moving, he realized it was headed back to the rear, toward Hank and the wounded.

His hand flew up to his ear, pressing the communicator.

"Beast!" he yelled, "You've got trouble!"


	47. Chapter 47

Hank had learned the nuances of many of the X-men's phrases early on. Hank was very good at keeping his voice steady. As a doctor, Hank had been in plenty of life or death situations. He'd always seen being calm as the only real response. If you lost your head, then everyone else would too.

And, technically, he was still a doctor. It was what he put on his census material, although he also mentioned he taught a few classes. If he didn't mention he was also a vigilante, it was because it wasn't anyone's business.

But everyone had their own way of communicating information. Charles always spoke calmly over the line, and Alex was prone to use slang or profanity. He'd lightened up after they started getting the younger generation on the team but, nonetheless, it was part of who he was and it would come out sooner rather than later.

Alex had a very casual attitude toward danger. His voice had gained a hard edge after Sean had died, and his wit had become sharper after he went away to war. But, in the end, Alex was Alex. He laughed in the face of danger.

So, when he said "trouble" was coming Hank's way, he knew it was going to be bad.

"ETA?" Hank said.

"Optimistically?"

That was not good. It never was when a sentence was prefaced by that.

"Five minutes," Alex said, "I'm gonna hurry over there, but..."

Hank gritted his teeth. It was never good when Alex trailed off.

"It looks like it's one of those heavy-duty trucks," Alex said, "I'm not sure how many are in there, but, judging by the speed, a shit ton."

"Understood," Hank said.

He closed his eyes and began taking stock of resources. They had two people who were wounded, one with severe blood loss. Another had been heavily tranquilized, and Amanda had been giving quite a bit of blood over the past few minutes. The only people in prime condition were him and Kurt.

Kurt. Yes, of course.

"Can you teleport inside the plane?" Hank asked, opening his yees.

Kurt looked startled by the question.

"Something bad is coming, and we need to make sure the wounded get out of here," Hank said, "Now, can you teleport inside the plane?"

He pursed his lips in thought, and Hank fought the urge to grab Kurt and shake him. They might not have time for him to think.

"Ja," he said at last, "It ist under two miles und-"

"Good," Hank said, "Get Archangel and Logan up there right now, bring Mystique down when you return, and then get up there with Cyclops and Amanda. And once you're done with that, stay up there."

Kurt opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to ask questions, but Hank could hear the faint roar of an engine. It probably wasn't audible to the rest of them, not yet, but he could hear it, and it was getting closer by the second.

"Just do it!" he roared.

Still looking startled, Kurt ran forward and grabbed Warren and Logan. They disappeared in a puff of black smoke, and Scott got to his feet.

"Which direction?" he asked.

The sound was much louder now and, from the way Amanda was clambering upwards into a standing position, he knew they could hear it too.

"That way," Hank said, pointing toward the camp.

Scott put his hand on the dial.

"I have a range of a mile," he murmured, "I won't have a chance to take another shot if this one goes south."

"That'll have to work," Hank answered.

He cracked his neck, the roaring increasing. It was at times like these that Hank wished he really was just a doctor.

* * *

The smoke that filled the plane was unexpected. Mystique thought that they'd been hit somehow, but when she turned she saw Kurt, along with Logan and Warren. Logan was moving sluggishly and Warren was looking exhausted.

Beneath their combined weight, Kurt looked like he was ready to collapse.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Kurt's tail swished in the air as he laid Logan down and began to pull Warren toward a seat. He seemed to be able to handle Warren easily enough, but Mystique had to hurry over and help him with Logan. Logan weighed a ton, and there was a look in his eyes she didn't trust.

Together, they managed to haul him into a seat. Kurt paused before buckling him in and turning around to do the same to Warren. It was a thoughtful gesture, but one Mystique had little patience for.

Her son was not supposed to be there, but he was.

"What are you doing here?" Mystique repeated.

Kurt sighed.

"Varren vas hurt," he said, "Und Scott could not come. It vast not zat difficult to figure out vhat I had to do."

She felt like screaming. Did he not understand how much danger he was in out here?

"You did leave Amanda back at the cabin, didn't you?" asked Charles.

His voice was tight, but not biting. As far as she knew he hadn't even looked behind him, but he was trying to keep the plane aloft. She sincerely hoped he wasn't alright with this, that he was just saving his lecture for later.

"Um..."

Mystique grabbed Kurt's shoulders, forcing him to face her. When she'd first met Kurt, she'd thought he was a serious, thoughtful boy. Yes, she'd seen he was naïve, but she hadn't thought that he was insane or flat out stupid.

It looked like she was wrong.

"You brought her with you?" she hissed.

"Ja," Kurt said reluctantly, "Und because she vas here, she vas able to give blood to-"

"Kurt, you brought an untrained girl onto the field," said Mystique.

Kurt drew himself up, offended.

"Amanda ist not-" he began.

"Compared to the guys on the ground?" demanded Mystique, "Yeah, Kurt, she isn't trained. She might be fast, and she has some very impressive acrobatic skills, but she's not trained."

She could tell he was getting ready to argue, so she decided to twist the knife a final time. It was unpleasant, and she didn't want to be cruel given his unprecedented acceptance of her, but it was something he needed to know.

"Kurt, Graydon knows who she is," Mystique said, "He tried to have people kidnap her at an airport, remember? He might not know she's your girlfriend, but he damn well knows she's connected to you. That's all he needs to want her either dead or captured. "

Finally, she saw fear in Kurt's eyes. Again, it was cruel to take satisfaction in that, but Mystique needed him to understand what was at stake. She might not like the girl with violent blue eyes and violent gold hair, but she had sacrificed everything to protect Kurt. Amanda had stared down Mystique and defied the odds to get back to him.

Perhaps it was time for him to realize there were dangers he was taking for granted.

"Hank said zere ist somezing coming," Kurt said, his voice shaking slightly, "Und he said I should bring you down."

It appeared that particular conversation would have to wait though. Immediately, Mystique let go of Kurt's shoulders and strode back up to the front of the plane. Mystique grabbed her gun bag, when she got there, unzipping it so she could start putting together her sniper rifle.

She knew Charles was looking at her, no doubt hating that she owned guns. The look made her feel uncomfortable, almost as though she were a small girl again who'd been caught doing something naughty. If there had been time, she would explain to Charles that she tried to aim and maim, not to kill. There was so much she would tell him if there had been time.

But there wasn't, and she needed to help her son.

"Let's get going then," she said.

* * *

As soon as the truck was in range, Scott had let out a blast from his goggles. It winged one of the front tires, but it wasn't enough to flip the vehicle over. He'd hoped they could do that and, in the very least, be able to take them out at once.

"I don't think I'm gonna be very mobile for this one," Scott muttered.

"I'll take care of being mobile," Hank said, "You just make sure nothing happens to Amanda."

"I'm not completely helpless," she murmured, "I can probably still outrun these jerks."

Scott smiled. He had to admire her tenacity, even if it was misplaced. The FOH weren't pushovers, and Amanda had just donated quite a lot of blood from what he understood. She wouldn't be able to get very far, given her current circumstances. They'd catch her far too fast.

He put his hand back on his goggles and fired as three men stepped out of the truck. He got one of them, but the other two immediately started firing. Scott fell to the ground to avoid the gunfire, and pain shot through his leg.

"Try not to do that," Hank hissed.

Scott wanted to tell him he didn't have much of a choice, but a war zone was not the time for idle chatter or debate. His biggest goal at the moment was just living through the night and, quite possibly, taking down one of the FOH's biggest leaders.

He got back up, ready for the FOH to try and make another assault. To his surprise, he saw they weren't moving very far outside of the truck. Scott gave them a puzzled look, which was returned by Hank. It looked like he didn't know why they were just sitting there.

A soft explosion echoed next to him. He turned and saw Kurt had returned, Mystique in tow. She coughed once before putting together what looked like a sniper rifle. It was an efficient process, and Scott could tell she'd used it a lot in the past.

He couldn't help but feel uncomfortable in its presence though. None of the X-men had used guns, and there was a reason for that. The people they fought were the ones who used guns: not them. Never them.

"Get your friends out of here Kurt," Mystique said, resting the gun on her shoulder, "Hank and I should be able to take care of these assholes."

Hank gave her a quick once-over, one Scott didn't think was particularly friendly. It seemed more like hurt wrapped up in irritation. Scott decided he would ask about that later. Even with Alex as his brother there were things about the X-men he didn't know.

He was starting to get that, whatever had happened with Mystique and the X-men, it had been big.

"Cyclops, get out of here," said Hank.

"Why?" asked Scott.

Hank snorted. It was very unlike him, but Scott had often seen him start to lose his poise when patients refused to do the logical thing. Scott realized that, since that was what was happening, he could consider himself a bad patient. More than once he'd seen him raise his voice at his brother, the worst of the worst when it came to accepting bed rest.

Now it was just another thing Scott had in common with his brother.

"Your leg," Hank said.

"It's only a two on the scale," Scott said.

One of Hank's hands clenched into a fist.

"Just because Havok-" he began.

A sharp, keening sound filled the air. From his training, Scott could vaguely recognize the sound of a grenade or rocket launcher. Neither were good. He had just enough time to throw himself to the ground before it hit their position.


	48. Chapter 48

Mystique had a moment where she felt a hand around her wrist, and then she felt a familiar sensation of falling. Her gun bag jerked and hit her back, but didn't fall off her arm. Black smoke clouded her vision and, for a moment, it was nearly two decades ago, and Azazel's arms were around her, pulling her to safety.

There were so few times she felt safe in the Brotherhood. She'd floundered for the first few months, wondering if she'd made a mistake in leaving her brother. But when he would put his arms around her, let her know he had her back, it had felt like coming home.

He'd been the one who was excited when she told him he was pregnant. She'd been worried about what it would mean, if it would be safe. He'd just been jubilant, later telling her he'd never imagined he could have a family. That was when he started listing off possible names, with Kurt as his favorite if it was a boy.

At one point, she'd almost convinced herself they could work things out. She could give the baby to Charles, and she and Azazel could visit. The baby could have a loving home, and they could still be a part of his life without giving up their cause. It had been an unlikely dream, but she'd cherished it.

But when the smoke cleared Azazel was still dead, and their son was standing next to her. He let go of her almost immediately and vanished, leaving Mystique disoriented and wondering where she was.

She shook her head to clear it. It had been years since she had last teleported and the disorientation that always came with teleportation was very confusing. It didn't help that, only seconds after Kurt left her, an explosion rocked the ground.

Fear clenched her heart, but a second later her son appeared again, his arms clenched tightly around Amanda. The girl looked slightly shell-shocked, and her breathing was uneven and ragged. Must've been the first time she'd heard an explosion.

"Where's the others?" Mystique asked.

Kurt shook his head, looking fearful.

"I could not find zem," he said, "I...I'm sorry..."

His eyes were fixed on Amanda, and he began lowering her to the ground.

"I knew I could make two trips," he said, his voice pleading, "Mien mutter vas closer..."

His voice was almost panicked, and Mystique could hear his accent becoming thicker with each word. His hands were quickly moving away from Amanda's arms and moving so they rested on her stomach. Strange.

"I know," Amanda said calmly, frowning, still sounding dazed, "You did the logical thing. You came for me second because you knew you could. Going for me first would've made it more difficult to save everyone else. I know how distance works with teleportation: you've told me."

Kurt still looked stricken and Amanda put her hands on either side of his face. Mystique couldn't believe it. He'd just saved Amanda's life, and he was worried she was going to be angry because he didn't go for her first.

"Kurt, it's okay," Amanda said, "Everyone's fine."

He breathed in deeply, and Mystique noticed Amanda was looking at him intensely. Mystique suddenly realized Amanda didn't think he was making much sense either. She'd thought this might have been his response to shock, but she felt a tremble of worry with in her.

"No," he said, "Zey are not."

"Kurt, what are you-"

"Amanda!" Kurt said.

Mystique moved a little closer, and she realized Amanda's front was splattered with blood. Unlike Kurt though, she was able to see one very important fact.

"That's not her blood Kurt," said Mystique.

Amanda looked down, perhaps realizing for the first time what had happened.

"There's no wound," Mystique said, "Just blood."

"She's right," Amanda said, "I'm not injured. I'm not in pain."

Kurt's hands began to waver. Amanda pulled herself up a little bit.

"I was right next to the blood supply. I had just finished donating," she said, "I thought I felt something a little wet before we teleported. It probably got damaged in the initial shock from the blast. A lot of it is probably wasted, but I'm not injured."

He let her go and Mystique saw him pull away. Kurt was shaking and Mystique was forced to remember that this was a new world for him. He'd never been in combat, and he'd thrown himself in the thick of it just in case he could protect his friends.

Mystique didn't know how he'd found the strength to help two injured friends. It was unlikely he'd seen those kinds of injuries, or even that much blood, before. The breaking point had obviously come when he thought the woman he loved was injured. It had probably hit so suddenly that he hadn't been able to think about whether or not she was actually injured. The blood had made him panic.

He breathed in once more and opened his eyes.

"I haf to go back," he said.

No one protested. Hank and Scott were still back there. She turned her head, looking at the spot they had just been at. It was a considerable distance, but not too far. Kurt's first thought had been to get as many people as he could out of danger, going for his love and his mother first.

With Hank and Scott's training it was likely they had been able to throw themselves out of the way of the blast. That's what she kept telling herself anyway.

"Bring me with you," Mystique said.

Kurt shook his head.

"Two of you are safe," he said tightly, "Two are not. I vill be back und teleport to plane."

"Kurt!" Mystique snapped.

Kurt didn't answer. He just teleported. Mystique let out a frustrated yell.

"You'll find it's difficult to get him to change his mind when he thinks he's right," Amanda said.

She looked down at the front of her shirt.

"It probably didn't help for him to see what I would look like with a mortal injury," she said.

Mystique hissed out a breath from behind her teeth. Kurt could be really stubborn. She slung her gun bag down on the ground and started putting together her sniper rifle. They were far away from where the others were but still within range.

If things went South, she wanted a back-up plan. She had just finished fixing the barrel when there was a single, red blast which came form the small area. Amanda got up and Mystique shoved the scope onto the gun.

She needed to find out what was happening, and she needed to find out right now.

* * *

Hank felt disoriented. His ears were ringing, and that was bad. With his senses, that meant the entire world was scrambled. He didn't think he was injured, but he did know he would have to get moving soon. You never stayed in one place after someone had just tried to blow you up.

He pushed himself up, but a hand came down on his shoulder. To his relief, he saw it was Scott. He looked a little uneasy on his feet, but, overall, he looked alright.

"Men in my family are hard to kill," Scott joked.

Hank smiled back at him, wincing as he got to his feet. He probably had a lot of bruises on his back, and probably on his legs and arms too. He looked around and spotted some of the blood bags he'd siphoned from Amanda. Hank always made them smaller than the hospital sizes since smaller sizes meant the difference between life and death for more the X-men. It was always difficult when there were only so many sources for blood.

They had been ripped open and now the blood was spilling onto the ground. Hank sighed. He had another bag or two on the Blackbird, but he'd need to get here first.

"Do you know where Kurt and the others are?" he asked.

"I smell sulphur, so I guess they got away," said Scott.

"Good," Hank said.

He looked up and saw that the truck was still there. More than that, the doors were opening up.

"Cyclops?" he asked.

"On it," Scott said.

He put his hand to his goggles. Dark shapes moved but, with a stationary target within range, it really didn't stand a chance. It had taken Alex years to be able to focus his powers so they didn't leave flames behind. Scott's had always been a single, concussive blast, perfect for pushing something away and knocking the absolute tar out of someone.

He smiled in appreciation when the truck was shoved back, the entire hood splitting. Hank heard some calls, distressed and frustrated.

"You still pack a good punch," Hank said.

"Thanks."

Hank sniffed the air, looking for some traces of Kurt, but he smelt something else: gunpowder.

"Get down!" Hank yelled.

He shoved Scott down to the ground and gunfire filled the air. Hank breathed in deeply, and was startled when he smelt the strong smell of sulphur. He looked up. The noise Kurt made when he teleported must have been too quiet for his shot hearing.

Kurt was standing in the middle of the area, looking surprised. The gunfire started up again, and Kurt rolled to get out of the way. He moved so he was closer to Hank and Scott. With another roll he was close enough to be able to reach out for them.

More gunfire ripped through the air, this one concentrated on them. Kurt jerked his hand away and Hank swore. He pulled Scott up to his feet and out of the way. They needed to reach each other, needed to figure out some way to get close enough for Kurt to teleport them away.

Scott let out another blast, and Hank could make out six gunmen. One of them went down when Scott blasted him, but that made everyone concentrate their gunfire on him. He pulled Scott away again, and he saw Kurt was trying to teleport to avoid all the gunmen.

It was keeping Kurt safe but, again, it made it harder to reach them. Hank growled in frustration, but one of the gunmen suddenly went down, clutching his arm. Two more quickly followed, precision shots hitting them in their shoulders.

Hank briefly remembered the gun bag Mystique had had. Was this her? He didn't have much time to contemplate it, since the downed gunmen had given Kurt the time he needed to reach them. Without a word of warning, Kurt grabbed Hank's arm and teleported them.

* * *

Mystique smiled to herself as she took down the gunmen. They were clustered tightly together, perfect targets for a sniper. It made it all the better to know she had saved her son in the process. Even through the scope she'd seen that Kurt had managed to get out of the area with Scott and Hank. No doubt he was taking them to the plane.

"Kurt and the rest got out," she said casually, turning away from the scope.

"Great," Amanda said.

She sounded exhausted, and she looked like she'd been hit by a train. Mystique raised an eyebrow.

"How much blood did you give?" she asked.

"A lot," Amanda said.

"Then you should rest," Mystique said, "Kurt'll be back soon, and we can get you back on the plane."

She looked over at the rest of the fight. The air was filled with sparks and other noises but gunfire, for the most part, had died. The X-men were obviously still alive, and she didn't think Wade knew how to die. Chris was a survivor too, so she figured the fight was almost over.

"Just take it easy for a bit," said Mystique, "You're in no condition to move much-"

A shot rang out, and pain blossomed from her shoulder. Mystique dropped the gun and fell to the ground. A kick to the face sent her flying, skidding in the dirt. She looked up, trying to get her bearing, and her heart sank.

"Hello mother," Graydon said, his voice acid.


	49. Chapter 49

Mystique kept one eye on the gun in front of her and let her other eye flicker over to Amanda. To her surprise, she saw Amanda was laying on the ground, her eyes half open. With her face pale from donating blood, and her body splattered with blood and dirt, she looked dead.

She had to resist the urge to smile. While there was nothing to smile about, not really, at least Amanda had the good sense to play dead. She was in no position to fight, wasn't even trained, and Mystique certainly didn't want to explain to Kurt if something happened to Amanda.

Then she turned her attention to Graydon, and there was less reason for cheer there. He was looking at her like someone who had found something particularly unpleasant under his boot and he was trying to figure out what it was.

His grip on the gun was unwavering though. Mystique didn't know why he wasn't shooting yet, but he was holding the gun correctly. She'd heard rumors from some of the men they'd interrogated that he'd killed the members of Weapon X himself.

It had seemed psychotic, but it had told them a great deal about the man who they were fighting. He might not have been able to catch them, but he'd wanted to be the one who personally made the killing shot. Graydon wanted to make things personal.

The fact that he was lingering over her meant he wanted things to be very personal indeed. Mystique could think of five or six ways to disarm him, but he was outside of her range. She shifted slightly, but stopped when she realized the gun was following her.

"Did you kill her?" Graydon asked.

Good. It seemed he really did seem convinced Amanda was dead.

"She got injured in the blast," Mystique said.

She tried to keep her tone neutral, but let Amanda know she approved of her decision to remain out of it at the same time.

"Didn't think you'd kill your son's whore," he said.

Mystique bristled. She might not like Amanda, but she certainly didn't deserve to be called that.

"You know, I always thought a whore was someone who prostituted themselves pointlessly to someone or something for the sheer pleasure of it," she said, "Kind of reminds me of you."

Graydon pulled the hammer of his gun back.

"Is that supposed to frighten me?" she asked.

"I don't really care," Graydon said.

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" Mystique taunted.

She knew most people would say it was a mistake to taunt the man who had her in his sights, but she was more concerned with buying time than anything. Graydon had obviously chosen not to kill her yet, so she could hold onto that, use it to wait things out until she got back-up.

"Because," Graydon said, "I don't think you made it all the way down here by yourself so quickly. I think your spawn helped you."

She raised her eyebrows. Graydon wasn't her son, but he thought he was, which made him an easy target.

"Interesting choice of words," she said.

The gun remained trained on her.

"Given his movements tonight, I think he's been protecting you," Graydon said, "Which means he'll be back."

He shrugged.

"Two birds with one stone," he said, "But, if you move, I won't hesitate to kill you and speed things up a bit."

Mystique forced herself to keep calm. She didn't know exactly what to do. If he was waiting for Kurt, then he'd pretty much lost all chance of surprise. She swallowed and began to look around, wondering where everyone was.

"My men are keeping your friends occupied," he said, "Don't worry: I'll get to them soon. It might not be tonight, but it will be soon. I already have a lead on Wade's redheaded slut."

She narrowed her eyes and amused herself by imagining what Wade would do to him if he heard him say that.

"You really think you can take on a teleporter?" she asked.

"If he's surprised and inexperienced, yes," Graydon said.

He looked around him, impatient.

"He's really taking his time, isn't he?" he asked.

Mystique hoped Kurt was too occupied getting the others to safety to come.

"Or is he not coming for you?" asked Graydon, "You don't sound like you made a very good mother."

She snorted.

"I still did a better job of being a mother than you did of being a son," she said.

Even if she wasn't his mother, Mystique couldn't resist that little barb. Graydon gave a shuddering breath, and Mystique suddenly wondered if she'd gone too far.

"You know what?" he said, "I think I might've over-planned this one."

She put her weight on one side of her body, ready to turn and duck in a moment. Hopefully it would make the bullet sail over her head or hit her other shoulder. Once she moved she could figure out what to do from there, but she was going to have to go for the gun.

It was the only option open to her.

"Goodbye mother," he said.

Mystique began to shift her weight, and then felt something move past her head. She moved anyway and rolled, the sound of a gunshot echoing through the air. There was no pain except the pain in her shoulder, and she couldn't help but feel relieved.

Then she looked up and saw Amanda clawing at Graydon's face.

* * *

Amanda hadn't thought she had a lot of options when Graydon had shot Mystique. So, she'd stayed still, trying to figure out what her next step was when she couldn't even see. She'd immediately decided she was going to kick Graydon in the teeth when he called her a whore. She'd had enough of that from her mother.

While she appreciated Mystique covering for her, and even defending her, she knew she couldn't play dead forever. Even if Kurt did come in the next five minutes, Graydon would be waiting for him. The more Mystique and Graydon talked, the more she became convinced that she couldn't keep lying down. It didn't matter if she was experiencing blood loss, or if she was exhausted.

She was starting to understand Kurt's actions over the past few days. She'd been angry at him for being selfless, for not thinking of her when he made a decision. But maybe her focus on him had been too selfish. He was the last real thing her life after all, and her willingness to die to preserve that was probably worrying for him.

Perhaps that was what went through his head every time she was in danger. It would, of course, break his heart if she died. But it would kill her to go on in life knowing she had done nothing to try and save Kurt's mother.

The decision to act hadn't been a difficult one, and Amanda realized it never would be. She'd made the decision to save the man she loved that night so long ago, and she'd never looked back. Doing the right thing wasn't easy, and it wasn't automatic, but she was never one to choose inaction.

So, when the word "goodbye" passed Graydon's lips, she jumped up and lunged for him. Graydon was startled and the gun went off, but it didn't hit her. Amanda didn't even know where the bullet went, but Mystique didn't cry out, so that was good. She had the feeling him pulling the trigger had been more of a reflex than an actual action.

He hadn't been expecting her, and she made use of that. Amanda didn't know how to fight, not really. But she knew where the sensitive parts of the body were, and the throat was her favorite target in a fight.

But she was feeling weak, and she knew she couldn't do a good punch. Amanda hadn't cut her nails in a while though, and they were a decent length. So she went with her gut instinct and decided to try and go for his eyes.

He howled in pain, but Amanda knew it wasn't enough to actually damage his eyes. When he brought the gun around she moved and wrapped her arms around his neck, still clawing at his face. Amanda didn't know if she could maintain the grip, but she knew she had to try.

Graydon started jerking her around, and Amanda felt dizzy. Hank had told her after he drew blood she should try to avoid strenuous physical activity. She wondered how worried he'd be for her if he knew what she was doing.

Something soft gave under one of Amanda's fingers. She thought it might have been his ear, she was too disoriented to tell where she was clawing at any more. All she was trying to do was keep her purchase.

He spun around again and her grip faltered. She stumbled backwards but managed to stay upright. Amanda was good at maintaining her balance, good at never falling. And, even if she did fall, then Kurt would be there to catch her. That knowledge had made her strong when she was weak, the knowledge that, somewhere out there, someone had her back.

The gun came around and slammed into her forehead. Pain splattered through her skull and she fell to the ground. It felt like someone was folding her up like a deck of cards. Amanda cried out, but the sound seemed so far away.

Graydon brought his hand back again, smashing her forehead with the butt of the gun once more. Blood splattered her vision and her vision went black.

* * *

Mystique had just grabbed her gun when she heard Amanda yell. She watched Graydon bring his hand back up again, his face crazy. Mystique had never met Logan's brother, only heard about him in stories from the other members of Weapon X, but it seemed apparent why he and Logan no longer travelled together.

The answer was simple. Mystique had never been one for long fancy speeches, had never been one to philosophize like her brother. But, Amanda was Kurt's and Kurt was her son. And, when it came to protecting what was hers, she liked to think that she always knew the answer.

She picked up the gun and fired a shot. From the angle, she knew it would travel just above his eye and shatter his brain. He wouldn't even see it coming and, Mystique believed, it would be relatively painless. It was a mercy he didn't really deserve, but one she would grant anyway.

Graydon fell backwards and Mystique got up. Her shoulder still hurt, but she walked to where Graydon was and kicked him with her foot. No response. In another day and age she might have shot him again just to make sure he really was dead, but that wasn't who she was anymore.

"And I'm not your damn mother," she said.

There wasn't an answer, and there never would be again. She turned toward Amanda and knelt by her. Mystique put her hands on Amanda's forehead, trying to gauge how much damage had been done to her skull. Even unconscious, Amanda moaned from the contact.

Her breathing was faint and, from what Mystique saw when she pulled Amanda's eyelids apart, her pupils were dilated. Mystique let go of her eyelids and put two fingers on Amanda's throat, praying for a good, strong pulse.

When Kurt did arrive, looking flustered and exhausted, she didn't waste any time.

"We need to get your girlfriend to Hank," she said.


	50. Chapter 50

Kurt felt his heart stop when he saw his mother knelt by Amanda. The dead body only a few feet away only vaguely registered. All he knew was there was what looked like a massive head wound on Amanda's forehead, bleeding into her golden hair.

And, for a moment, the world stopped. He'd never been in that situation before. Certainly, time had seemed to go by too fast or too slow. Minutes and moments had been painful, had torn at him, but it had never stopped.

A blink felt like a lifetime and, in the brief second before he opened his eyes again, it was only a few hours before, when the world had begun sliding towards insanity.

 _She rolled onto her side and kissed him, her warm, smooth lips meeting his rough ones. He reached up and buried his fingers in her hair. It was so easy to just lose himself in her touch, in the way she seemed to be a safe harbor in any storm._

 _Amanda pulled away and moved so that each leg was on either side of Kurt, her head bowed so that her forehead nearly touched his. Her hair acted as a curtain, giving them a strange kind of extra privacy, a room all to themselves surrounded by shimmering gold._

 _"I love you Kurt," she said, "Please don't forget that."_

 _He smiled softly, once again thinking of their first kiss. It had happened almost the same way, and he had no doubt she was trying to replicate that now. It reminded him of when life was simple, when the biggest problem was wondering whether or not she loved him._

 _Now, the answer to that was written in his heart._

 _"I love you too," he said._

"We need to get your girlfriend to Hank," his mother said.

He didn't wait. He scooped up Amanda in his arms, trying to be as tender and gentle as possible. His mind kept throbbing back to different moments, the moment he realized he loved her, their first kiss, what it felt like to be in her arms, when she listened and believed in him when he thought no one would.

His mother put a hand on his shoulder, fisting in the cloth of his shirt. He didn't say anything as they teleported. Curls and wisps of black smoke pulled around him as he got up, carrying her in his arms.

Hank had turned at the sound of his arrival. He'd just been putting a small flashlight in his pocket, but he immediately took it out again.

"Prop her up," Hank said.

Kurt did so, keeping one of his hands wrapped around hers. Hank pulled her eyelids apart and flashed the light in them.

"She's responsive," he said.

He put the flashlight away and gently probed the area around the wound, his lips pursed. He pulled away and began pulling cloths out of one of the pouches on his belt, bringing them to her forehead to mop up the blood there.

"Hank?" Kurt pleaded.

"It looks like it's mostly a surface wound," Hank said, "Difficult to tell without an X-ray or a CAT scan. We have the machines we need back at the school, so we'll need to go there next."

He shook his head.

"This guy was really going for it," he said, "Another blow would've cracked her skull open."

Kurt felt sick to his stomach.

"But she vill be fine?" he asked.

"She's not dead, and I don't think she's going to die," Hank said.

Blessed relief fell over him.

"But..." Hank said.

The relief chilled and Kurt felt his breathing quicken. Hank hesitated before putting his hand on Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm not sure if there's going to be any brain damage though," he said.

Sickness washed over him again. He reached out and cupped the side of Amanda's face opposite her wound. Tears began to fill his eyes, and he wanted to beg her to wake up, just so he could know everything was fine, that he hadn't done this to her.

But she didn't. He swallowed and let his thumb brush her cheekbone.

"I need you to let go Kurt," Hank said gently, "I need to be able to stitch and clean her wound."

He nodded and pulled away. Hank gave him a sympathetic glance, but he just set to cleaning the wound. Kurt didn't blame him. He had a job to do, and that job was taking care of Amanda. Kurt didn't care if he had time to spare any pity for him.

Kurt dragged himself up to the front of the plane, feeling like he was having difficulty balancing. Someone put their hand on his shoulder. As if in a dream, he turned and saw his mother, looking like she wanted to say something.

"I do not feel like talking," he said.

His mother nodded her head and withdrew her hand. He sunk down in the chair next to his uncle. No doubt he'd heard what Kurt had told his mother, because he remained blissfully silent. Kurt pulled up his knees to his chest, settling into a sort of crouch.

Amanda's warm skin could still be felt through his, a strange grounding sensation amdist all of the pain he went through that night. He exhaled and looked out of the windshield at the scene below. It looked like the entire field was on fire, even though he knew it wasn't. It matched the burning in his heart.

Kurt closed his eyes and bowed his head so his forehead rested on his knees.

 _Mein Gott,_ he thought, _Take care of her._ _She has come so far, done so much, but please, let me keep her for avhile longer as she is._

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and saw the image of her tying back her hair, letting him know he wouldn't be able to leave her behind.

 _Please_ , he prayed, _Let nozing dim zat smile._

* * *

Logan watched as Mystique moved away from her son. He could tell she was worried for her kid, but he was worried about his kid too. Logan didn't know if Kayla really was pregnant, but she'd believed she could've been. Kayla wasn't one to purchase things like this on a whim.

It wasn't that he didn't want a child. Kayla was very family-oriented, and he was sure she would be a good mother one day. The idea of being able to give that to her, to be able to see the two of them perfectly combined, was intoxicating.

However, he'd never thought of himself as a father. Logan tried to visualize what a child of his might look like, but every time he did, he saw Graydon staring back at him. Maybe that was what happened when he and his brother had children.

And Graydon knew. God, Graydon knew he might have a cousin out there, or would in a few months. He'd left Kayla months ago and, for all he knew, she was pregnant and wondering if he was ever coming. She had no idea htat the danger to herself and her sister had been significantly intensified.

He needed to get back to her, but he needed to kill Graydon first. He couldn't risk watching everything fall apart. So when Charles said they were going to be leaving, that they were carrying the wounded back to the Institute immediately, he couldn't help the snarl that rose from his throat.

Mystique gave him a side look, and then made a gesture with her hand to Charles. Logan felt the plane begin to move as Mystique walked over to him.

"Let me back down," he said.

"Your body's shot on tranquilizers," she said, "You won't do anything other than get yourself captured down there."

"Better than doin nothing," he snapped.

"Don't be too sure of that," said Mystique, "But we've got three wounded teenagers up here, and you. We're in no position to do much of anything at the moment."

"So yer son's girl gets hurt and suddenly ya get all scared?" Logan said.

Mystique curled her lip.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but she could've gotten her head bashed in," Mystique said, "Thanks to your nephew."

Logan found himself trying to move.

"He's still down there?" he said.

"His corpse is, yes," Mystique said.

He froze, feeling like he'd been slapped.

"You're welcome, by the way," said Mystique.

Logan felt all of the fight go out of him. It was like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, like he was suddenly free from something terrible. The image of Graydon going after Kayla and her sister, possibly of going after his unborn child, had disappeared from his future.

Mystique cocked her head at him, obviously confused by his reaction. She slapped him on the shoulder though and got to her feet.

"So kill that pissy attitude, because I doubt Kayla likes you when you're like that," she said.

He smiled. Yes, he was going to be seeing Kayla soon and, in a few months time, he might be seeing someone else too.

* * *

Jubilee was having a good night. Sure, she didn't like fighting for her life just as much as the next person. She didn't like being shot at, and she most definitely didn't like it happening so close to home. The Institute was supposed to be safe, and these morons were coming to destroy it.

What she did like, however, was winning. Who didn't? It felt like she was on a roll, and having Jean and Ororo watching her back made her feel even better. She felt like she could run a marathon, like she could truly walk through the shadow of the valley of death, but her friends were protecting her. It would work out.

The only thing that had gone wrong that night was their comms had shorted out. Jubilee had a theory it had something to do with how much lightning Ororo had been flinging around. It had meant no communication with anyone else, which was one of the reasons they had decided to stay so close together once they all found each other.

She threw sparks at one of the men, causing him to topple over. She moved over and kicked him once in the head, making sure he was unconscious. When she looked around, she realized there was no one left to fight.

Jubilee grinned and looked around for Jean and Ororo. They were nearby, and she gave them a thumbs up. It didn't look like everyone was in the mood to celebrate though. Jean was looking around the field, her brow creased in worry.

"Have you seen the boys?" asked Jean.

"They're probably nearby," Ororo said, "Archangel was hit earlier. It was nothing fatal, but he couldn't be out on the battlefield like that."

"Cyclops probably went for evac," Jubilee said, "Which means the girls win tonight!"

Jean didn't look convinced, but Jubilee couldn't stop beaming. It seemed like a lot was going right that night. She adjusted her gloves and spied Alex running into the clearing, followed by Deadpool and Chris.

"Hey," Jubilee said cheerfully.

Alex shot her a withering look, and Jubilee felt her voice die in her throat.

"Everything cleared?" he asked.

"Yes," Ororo said.

"Good," he said, "We've got to head back to the Institute. Let's figure out which truck is least damaged."

"What's happened?" asked Jean.

Alex gave her an exasperated look.

"We've got three wounded, and they're probably gonna need a transfusion," he said.

Jubilee felt her stomach plummet to the floor. Maybe things hadn't gone so well that night after all.


	51. Chapter 51

Kurt sat outside the infirmary, turning over a rosary in his fingers. Charles was hesitant to say anything. There was something intently focused about his nephew, as though all of his thoughts were fixed somewhere else.

Perhaps they were. Kurt was intensely religious, and the woman he loved was being examined very closely right now to see if she had brain damage. Hank had ruled out the possibility of death, it hadn't gone deep enough he said, but it was still a very serious concussion.

While he knew Kurt was relieved she would live, the possibility of her suffering permanent brain damage was not something to be taken lightly. Even now Charles knew his nephew was wondering how serious it might be, if Amanda would have to wake up every day to a struggle.

Charles had tried to give him his space, and to tread softly. The past few hours had been, to put it simply, traumatic for his nephew. He'd never been in a war zone before that night, never been in combat. He'd had to fight for his life before, but not like this. Not against guns and people who hated him just for being born.

Amanda had been his strongest supporter, and stubborn to a fault. Charles had seen how bright she'd burned, even after her own grueling experiences. It was likely Kurt owed his very life to Amanda if what he said about the night he'd killed Stefan was true.

And then this had happened, and Kurt hadn't been there. He knew what it was like to have a rock to take refuge on in a storm, and then to feel that rock crumble underneath your feet. While Kurt probably couldn't have done anything even if he was there, Charles knew that guilt would eat away at him.

Kurt opened his eyes and exhaled softly and, for a moment, his fingers stopped moving over the beads. Charles hesitated, but wheeled closer to him. He put his hand on Kurt's shoulder, and his nephew's eyes twitched toward him.

"What is it you need?" asked Charles softly.

"To know she ist alright," Kurt answered.

His voice was dead and toneless. Inwardly Charles sighed, wishing there was a way for Hank to finish his examination of Amanda faster.

"I can't imagine the pain you're going through right now," said Charles, "I really can't. But..."

He paused. Was it really right to give Kurt hope when there might not be any? So many times in life Charles had hoped for things to turn out one way because the alternative was too much to bear. So many times he had been disappointed.

But he'd always refused to sink into that despair, refused to forget what he'd once known as a young man.

"I refuse to believe that there is nothing but pain in your future," he said.

His nephew looked up as Raven entered the room. Her eyes leapt in hope when she saw them, perhaps excited because Kurt was responding. She sat down next to them, and Kurt looked down at the beads in his hand.

"For a long time," he said, "I believed zat I vould meet no one like me in ze vorld. Und I told myself, zis is fine."

The words were so matter of fact, but Charles wasn't surprised. It was something he'd felt once, something many of his students had once felt.

"But I met so many like me," Kurt said, "Und, zey vere like me not just because they were mutants. They were like me because zey vere also afraid, also alone."

He shook his head.

"Und I found you," he said, "Ze family I never knew I had."

Kurt's voice began to choke, and Charles tightened his grip on his shoulder. Raven paused before reaching out and grasping his hand. Kurt looked down at it, and Charles realized that his nephew had started trembling.

"But I can't...I can't have anyzing happen to her," he said, "Not because of me, not because of vhat I haf done-"

"You've done nothing to be ashamed of," Charles said.

Kurt bowed his head, still trembling.

"You were dealt a terrible hand and you have dealt with it the best you can," Charles said, "That is all anyone can ask of you."

"But vhat if it is not enough?" asked Kurt, "Vhat if my best is not good enough for Amanda? Vhat if-"

"For so many years I've dealt with what ifs," Raven said, "I've wondered what would've happened if I'd been there the night your father died, if I could have saved him. I've wondered what would've happened if I never gave you up, if I stayed with you. I've wondered what would've happened if I'd never left home."

Charles looked at her, feeling alarmed. He'd often wondered if she'd lost sleep over her decision, if she'd gone through the same possibilities that he had. Now, after all these years, he realized that she'd had the same doubts as him.

"But we'll never know," said Raven, "Good decisions, bad decisions, they happen Kurt. All you can do is work with what you've done."

"But-" Kurt said.

"Amanda and I might have our differences, but I know one thing," Raven said, "If she were out here right now, I'm sure she'd tell you the same thing."

Kurt gripped his rosary tighter.

"Vither zou goest," he whispered.

"Kurt?" asked Raven.

He looked up at both of them, and Charles saw a well of pain there. Kurt opened his mouth, and it was like a dam suddenly bursting. All that came out was a sob, and the only thing Charles and Raven could do was hold onto him while he cried.

* * *

Warren flexed his fingers. He was just coming out of his morphine-induced state of stupor, and he felt terrible. There were flashes of memory, things he'd said and things he'd seen happen, but he was still trying to stitch them all together.

Scott, who was on the cot next to him, told him that Amanda had received a head wound that could result in brain damage. No one seemed to know how that had happened, but Warren figured head wounds like hat weren't caused by anything pleasant.

He'd also noticed the bandage around his friend's leg, and he'd asked how that had had happened. Scott had very casually said he'd been shot a few times there. Sometimes he really did channel his older brother.

He'd also told him that they'd won, although Warren didn't feel in a celebratory mood. They'd had missions like that in the past, missions that they'd completed but at a high cost. They'd never lost a team member, but some missions left scars, and some were turning points.

This, he had the feeling, was both. That night had been combat at its worst, and Warren had gotten a taste of what a battlefield was like. True, no one had died, but Warren could appreciate how much luck had played a part in that particular outcome.

And Scott, if Warren remembered correctly, had confessed to having still tried to save him even after being shot. It was the kind of determination Alex had told them they had to have and, apparently, Scott had it.

It made him realize just how petty his earlier argument had been with him. Who cared who was dating who when he wasn't even in love with Jean, just liked her? Why would he ever choose a crush over a friendship that made Scott risk his own life just to help him?

As he leaned back in his bed, looking at the ceiling, Warren realized that the future was looking more somber than he'd thought. He'd never really thought he was giving up a portion of his childhood when he'd signed up to be an X-man, and maybe that was the problem.

He'd never realized it was a bad idea to act like he was an irresponsible teenager on the team, to have petty squabbles over crushes and who always seemed to do better than who. No matter how many times the Professor, Alex, and Hank had tried to warn him even nearly getting kicked off the team hadn't made him realize it.

But now, now he needed to start taking more responsibility for what happened. That night had opened his eyes to a fact he hadn't really thought about in the past few years: none of them were just teenagers anymore.

They had all been called to something higher, whether they'd unwittingly volunteered for it, or been dragged into it like Kurt and Amanda. They had all learned the hard way that, when you make the tough decisions, sacrifices have to be made sometimes. It's not an easy choice, it's not a fun choice, but it has to be made regardless.

He just hoped that Kurt and Amanda's sacrifice didn't have to be one that crippled Amanda. They'd already been through so much.

* * *

Although Kurt was crying when Hank came in, he immediately stopped. Hank seemed hesitant to come in, and Kurt could feel his heart pounding at a million miles an hour.

"I think she'll be fine," Hank said.

Kurt felt like he was collapsing in on himself, breathing heavily. He felt hands on his shoulders, on the back of his head, but it was all he could do to keep breathing in and out. She was going to be alright, she was going to be alright.

"She's going to be on bed rest for a while, and she may have some coordination difficulties for a little bit," said Hank, "But it's nothing permanent. Because of the blood loss she experienced when she donated, she's going to be tired too."

He gave a small smile.

"But she just woke up, and she's asking about you," Hank said.

Kurt didn't wait. He just teleported straight into the next room. He would say he was sorry to his uncle and mother later, but the absolute need to make sure everything was alright with his own two eyes was overpowering.

He spotted Amanda immediately, her head swathed in bandages and looking exhausted. She smiled when he came in.

"Hey," she said.

He teleported so he was next to her. His hand hovered over her face, before her own hand woozily reached up to grasp his. Kurt could see what Hank had meant about her having difficulty with her coordination. It would pass though, and he would be there for her every step of the way.

"Who is this who looks down like the dawn, beautiful as the moon, bright as the sun, awesome as an army with banners?" Kurt whispered.

Amanda frowned.

"I'm not a big fan of Song of Solomon," she said.

Kurt laughed, even if it was choked. She frowned again and brushed his face with her fingertips.

"You've been crying," she said.

"You had me worried," he said.

"You've had me worried more than once over the past few days," said Amanda, "I think we've done enough worrying about each other to last a lifetime."

Kurt turned her hand over and kissed the back of it.

"I agree," he said.

His tone came out wistful and Amanda's frown deepened.

"Kurt...it would be wrong to say I wasn't scared a few times tonight," she said, "But I'd do it again if I had to."

Her face became serious, mockingly so.

"Do I have to quote Ruth again?" she asked.

A chuckle rose in his throat.

"Nein," he said.

He clutched her hand tighter.

"I zink you haf already made your point about zat," he said.


	52. Chapter 52

"So, what happens now?"

Logan cracked his neck and looked over at Wade and Chris. Chris hadn't said much after the fight, which was just about usual, considering his desire to remain in the background. Wade had also been blissfully quiet, perhaps out of appreciation for how truly complicated everything was.

It looked like that grace period had ended.

"I mean, ding dong the witch is dead, we can all go back home?" asked Wade.

"More or less," Logan said.

He knew his tone was neutral, but it had been a long couple of hours. His mind was still firmly fixed on what Graydon had told him. Now that his nephew was dead, there was so much he had to consider as he made his way home.

"Are we sure no one else is hunting us?" asked Wade, his eyes narrowed.

"Usually you're not this paranoid," Chris said.

"Yeah well, the flight to Ireland's kinda long," Wade said, "And Terry's gonna be pissed at me when I get back. At least you've got a chance of your girl wanting a kiss when you get back claws."

Logan decided not to respond.

"So now you get cold feet about going back?" asked Chris.

"Didn't say that," said Wade, "Bottom line is I'm gonna hafta get lots and lots of gifts to make things up for Terry. Lots o candelight dinners and shit. I don't wanna hafta leave two minutes after I get her ta like me again because there're some bastards we forgot about."

Chris stifled a chuckle, but Wade didn't look amused.

"It looks like the FOH only cared about us because we were connected to Graydon in some way or another," Chris said, "Command wanted to keep Graydon, but they couldn't make it mesh with their ideals. So, in their mind, we needed to be dead for things to work out. Now that Graydon's not a factor-"

"Think they'll go after us for revenge?" asked Wade.

Chris cocked his head, obviously considering the question. Logan waited too. It was an angle he hadn't forgotten about, but it had been set on the backburner while they dealt with the problem at hand. He'd figured having the FOH after them would be a different monster than having someone with Vic's blood and insanity flowing through them.

"I don't think so," Chris said at last, "He had a lot of enemies."

"Not sure if 'I think so' is gonna cut it," said Wade tersely.

"It's all I've got," said Chris, "Besides, the FOH isn't actually as big as you think it is. Did you see how many people we took out tonight? How many weapons we destroyed? It's gonna be a long time before they have the resources to go after us again, and they'll remember this."

He shrugged.

"Not to mention the internal relations scandal they'd risk," Chris said, "It's going to be a punch in the balls to any of their operatives who hear about what went down tonight. You really think they'd risk taking another hit to their morale by pursuing this?"

Wade drummed his fingers on his leg.

"Still don't like this," he said.

Logan sighed. He suddenly felt very tired.

"At this point, I think we can go home," Logan said.

The words sounded as tired as he felt but, really, they spoke to a deep longing within him. He needed to find out if Kayla really was pregnant, if all of this wasn't just some strange dream he'd concocted. He'd been away from her for too long already, and it was likely her life had already taken a hit from it.

He began to wonder if she would even be happy to see him. It was a risk he had to take though, even if it was only her confirming she was carrying his child and telling him to pack dirt. He could deal with that eventuality, at least he told himself so. Logan just needed to know what he was up against.

Wade made a face behind his mask.

"What's with the sudden calm? You've got more to lose than any of us, or at least you think you do," Wade said.

"Yeah, and I think I gotta get back," he said, "I'm not sayin we dance in fronta FOH headquarters givin em all the middle finger-"

"You read my mind," Wade grinned.

"I'm just sayin, I think Chris is right," Logan said sharply, "It's time ta go. We should probably head out before we wear out our welcome. Ya have my number in case anything happens, and it's only for emergencies."

He gave a sharp look at Wade.

"And you not bein able to find the remote isn't an emergency," he said.

"It is to me," Wade pouted.

Logan snorted and got up.

"See ya next time there's a psychopath tryin ta kill us," Wade said.

That drew a real laugh.

"In that case, I hope I never see ya again Wade," said Logan.

"Likewise."

* * *

"You guys are okay, right?"

Jean's worried tone made Warren summon up a grin and a snarky comment, but Scott was much more matter-of-fact about things.

"No permanent damage," he said, "I'm sure we'll be off the training field for a while, but other than that I think we'll be fine."

Ororo gave a frustrated sigh.

"I left you alone for two minutes Warren," she said, "And then you're going into shock from blood loss?"

"Hey, I did pretty good under the circumstances," Warren said indignantly.

"That's right, blame the circumstances," said Ororo, "It sounds like you would've bled out if it wasn't for Kurt tonight."

"That part's true," Warren admitted, "But I did pretty good."

Ororo rolled her eyes.

"I think you belong in a padded room so you can't hurt yourself," she said.

"Hey, Scott got shot in the leg," Warren said, "How about you give him lip?"

"Not sure if it's a good idea for anybody to give anybody any lip," Alex said, walking into the room, "Don't want Hank to get on my back for letting you all strain yourselves."

He leaned up against the wall and, now that Warren was well enough to recognize what was going on around him, he felt rather nervous. He'd been the one to get injured and throw a wrench in the workings of the attack.

"Now," Alex said, "I wanted to tell you all that I think you did a pretty good job tonight."

Warren gaped.

"Shut your mouth before something flies into it," Alex said, "I'm serious."

He shut his mouth, but he still had the urge to stare.

"Were there mistakes made?" asked Alex, "Hell yeah. Warren, you're going to have a refresher course with Hank about bandaging your wounds. We're also never going to do a solo extraction again, because that just causes more problems."

He turned to the girls.

"Also, Ororo, ease up on your lightning attacks," he said, "We're not one hundred percent sure about this, but you might have shorted out the girls communication devices. We'll need to look into that in the future."

He crossed his arms.

"But we won, and you survived what I hope is the closest you'll ever be to a real battlefield," Alex said, "You survived people with trucks, guns, and a shit ton of fire power. By the way Warren, Ororo told me about your dive. Nice maneuvering."

The urge to grape turned into a small smile. Perhaps he'd done a decent job after all.

"I also like the fast response to the use of the Blackbird's lights," Alex said, "I remember the first time we practiced that in the Danger Room, and half of you were seeing spots for ages afterwards."

There were a few chuckles. That had been a difficult day, that was for sure.

"I think we'll have to up our training missions in the future though," Alex said, "I mean, and I'm being very positive here, we reached a new level of fighting tonight. I think this was our hardest mission, even with the extra help and the different techniques we used."

Alex finally smiled.

"More than anything, none of you gave up," he said, "Scott, it was stupid to keep going when you did, but I kind of admire you for it. Warren, you should've let us know how bad it was sooner, but as soon as you realized you didn't hesitate to call it in. Good job not trying to be some sort of macho jock."

He clapped his hands together.

"So, he said, "Some things to work on, but, overall, good job everyone. Good job."

It was high praise and, even though Warren had accepted that he was no longer a child, he let a juvenile sense of satisfaction steal through him.

"Now," Alex said, "We've got a ton of prisoners we're monitoring from the FOH, and we've got to make sure they're all downstairs before the students wake up. Everyone who didn't get injured, get upstairs and start dragging."

There were moans from the girls.

"Hey, I'll make it up to you," Alex said.

He grinned as he started to walk out of the room.

"It's all about give and take," he said.

* * *

Kurt hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep by Amanda's side until he woke up, his neck, back and the left side of his face aching. He'd fallen asleep with his face on the cot, one of Amanda's hands threaded through his hair and the other holding his.

He looked up groggily and saw that his mother and uncle were also in the room, talking quietly amongst themselves. They both turned as he looked up, and Kurt knew they had been talking about him.

He shifted, and he felt Amanda move too. Kurt winced: he hadn't meant to wake her. He couldn't even remember her falling asleep. If he tried very hard, he could remember some feather light kisses, trying to be careful and mindful of her injuries.

She sat up slightly and looked at them.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing much," Raven said.

She sat down.

"Well, besides the fact that Logan and his friends have cleared out," said Raven, "It looks like they were only hanging around to make sure Graydon was really dead."

Kurt felt disappointed.

"I vanted to zank Herr Logan," he said.

"For what?" asked Raven.

She sounded genuinely puzzled, and Kurt struggled to articulate what he was thinking.

"He vas trying to help," he said.

"And he started this mess," said Raven, "I don't think you have anything to thank him for."

Kurt decided it wasn't the time to push the point. Raven looked tired enough.

"But mostly we were just talking about what we were going to do with all the FOH prisoners we captured," she said, "Charles was voting for wiping their memory and sending them home."

"You can do zat?" asked Kurt, surprised.

His uncle nodded.

"It will be difficult with so many of them, but it's possible," he said, "I don't like doing things like this, but in this case we really can't just let them go. They know too much about the school."

A troubled look came across Charles's face, and Kurt had the feeling this wasn't the first time he'd done this.

"But," Raven said, "I guess the next question here really isn't about the prisoners."

She twisted her hands in front of her.

"It's about what you two want to do next," she said.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** One more chapter to go._


	53. Chapter 53

Logan felt sick to his stomach as he punched in the numbers for Kayla's phone. They'd both agreed to a cellular phone when he left and, although it had been expensive, he was still proud of the purchase, imagining that it was truly helping the woman he loved.

Now, standing at a payphone outside a gas station, he could just barely keep it together while he waited on her to pick up the phone. The wait felt like it was killing him. He hadn't seen Kayla for what felt like years. He'd told her she wouldn't hear from him: it would be too dangerous to communicate freely with a killer stalking them.

The result was he hadn't heard her voice for months, and ever extra second was excruciating. He knew Graydon hadn't gotten to him, so the delay couldn't be anything dangerous. He just needed to hear fro her as soon as possible.

Finally, she picked up.

"Hello?"

He put one hand on the pay phone, bowing his head in relief.

"It's Logan," he said.

At this point he half expected her to yell but, when she spoke, there was only relief in her voice.

"Logan?" she asked, "Are you alright?"

He chuckled.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said

"Is everything...taken care of?" she asked.

He sighed and cradled the phone underneath his chin.

"Yeah," he said.

"What was it?' she asked.

He paused, but he supposed there was no reason to hold anything back any more.

"My nephew grew up to be a psychotic mutant killer and he was trying to kill me and any other mutant who might know he was related to a mutant," Logan said.

On the other end of the phone, he heard Kayla breathe in sharply.

"Not...not quite what I was expecting you to say," she said.

"My family's kinda interesting," he said.

"I'll bet."

He paused.

"I wanted ta let ya know everything was okay," he said, "And I wanted ta tell ya I was comin back...if that's okay."

"Why wouldn't it be?"

He wished he could reach through the phone and pull her into his arms. Every time he thought she couldn't surprise him any more, she managed to find a way.

"Just thought that, well, after everything-"

"Logan, it's okay," Kayla said, "I mean, I'll admit, this did throw a wrench in my life, and in Emma's, but I understand why you did what you did. I appreciate it even, you caring enough about us to do what you did."

Some of the weight he'd been carrying around was lifted off his shoulders. No matter what, it looked like he'd be welcomed home when he got there. He cleared his throat, wondering how to phrase what he so desperately wanted to ask.

"Kayla, when I was out there...I heard...I mean...I thought," he stammered.

"Heard what?" she asked.

He swallowed again, hoping he was right for so many reasons.

"Are you pregnant?" he asked.

"Sorry?" Kayla spluttered.

He winced. Logan had never felt so embarrassed.

"I just, I was...are you?" he managed.

He'd expected an incredulous denial but, instead, he got a minute of silence. His heart soared and began to beat faster.

"Kayla?" he asked.

"How did you...I..." she said.

"You are?" asked Logan.

A few more seconds of silence passed, and then she sighed.

"Yes."

Logan laughed out loud, clutching the phone closely as though it would help him get closer to the woman he loved, the woman who was carrying his child.

"I was going to tell you, but-" she said.

"No, I understand," Logan said.

He ran a hand through his hair, laughter still shaking his voice. He realized the meter was beginning to run down though, and he was out of quarters.

"Look, we'll talk about this more when I get there," he said, "But I want ya to know, I've never been...this is a miracle ta me. I want ya to know that."

She gave a small laugh on the other end, either out of happiness or relief. He wasn't sure.

"Just wantcha ta know I love you," Logan said.

"I love you too Logan," said Kayla.

* * *

Kurt just looked at his uncle and mother.

"Vhat do you mean?" he asked.

His uncle folded his hands in his lap.

"Kurt, you were very clear when you first came here you were only going to be here for a little while," he said, "I don't know if tonight changed anything for you one way or the other. But I know, to you, this was a place where you could lie low and wait for Amanda.'

He nodded to her.

"She's here now and, while I'm not saying you'd have to leave immediately if you don't want to stay, I am simply saying that we need to know what it is you want to do next," Charles said.

Kurt looked over at Amanda. He already knew what he wanted to do. Over the past month he'd found a home in the Institute. Leaving it now seemed unthinkable to him, but he wouldn't stay there if Amanda didn't want to.

She caught his eye and shook her head.

"Kurt, the only person I have to factor into my decision is you," she said, "I need you to know that."

The news made him feel a little uneasy.

"Vhat about your mutter?" he asked.

Her eyes darkened and she shook her head.

"She's not a factor," she said.

Kurt couldn't help the hurt from welling up inside him. He'd always thought Margali wouldn't understand what had happened, but thinking it and hearing it were two different things. Margali had raised him, and now she had rejected him.

"I'm not stupid like her though," Amanda said.

She ran her fingers over his.

"I know that, sometimes, the truth can be unbearable," she said, "It doesn't give us a reason to ignore it."

Kurt nodded, although he could still feel the pain there, like a dull ache.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with my life right now," Amanda said, "I had a job as an airline stewardess, but I think I'm fired. I'm not sure I can explain that the reason I didn't show up to work that day was because I got kidnapped by a mutant hate group."

"Vhat, zey don't haf a policy for zat?" asked Kurt.

She grinned and continued rubbing the back of his knuckles wit her fingers.

"But I think I can figure things out," she said.

"We have a good GED program if you want to work toward your degree," Charles said.

Her eyes lit up, and Kurt smiled. Amanda had always wanted to learn. It had hurt her when her schooling stopped at age fifteen. There had been nights when she'd told him of her dreams of one day going to college, of travelling, of learning what life was like outside of the circus.

Now, because of his uncle, she could have that opportunity.

"I thought the school was only for mutants," she said.

"I think we can make an exception every now and then," Charles said.

Amanda nodded, her eyes still ablaze. She looked back at Kurt.

"Kurt, the decision is yours," she said, "And I'll go wherever you are. That being said, I wouldn't mind staying here."

He squeezed her hand, and then looked back at his family. His eyes settled on his mother.

"Are you going to stay?" he asked.

Raven hesitated.

"Kurt, I'm not sure if that's a good idea," she said, "The past few years...I could attract a lot of unwelcome attention."

"It's nothing we couldn't deal with," Charles said.

"I just...Charles...I'm not sure if I'm that little girl who showed up in your kitchen any more," she confessed.

Kurt had no idea what that meant, but he could see it meant something to the two of them.

"I'm not the little boy you met then," he said, "I'm older, I'm a little bit more cynical, and I think I might have lost some of his optimism. But what type of person would we be if we never changed?"

"The type of person who avoided a lot of heartache," Raven said.

"And a lot of joy in the process too, I'm sure," said Charles.

His tone was firma and reassuring. Kurt knew he wanted Raven to stay just as much as Kurt did, maybe even more. Indecision flickered in his mother's eyes.

"It's...been a long time since I've been in this kind of setting," she said, "I...it's going to be difficult to deal with me at times. I mean...I don't...you'd have to be patient with me."

Kurt glanced at Amanda, who immediately started chuckling.

"What?" asked Raven irritably.

"Nothing," said Amanda, "It's just your son has an excellent memory and likes to quote things."

"And what does that mean?" asked Raven.

Kurt smiled and shook his head.

"Love is patient, love is kind," he said, "It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor ozzers, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs."

His mother bit the inside of her lip, and Kurt could see the words were sinking in.

"Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices vith ze truth," Kurt said.

Kurt had seen far too much of love to doubt the words in one of Paul's many letters. He thought of Amanda, choosing to accept what her brother had done and come with Kurt. Love craved honesty, even if it was painful.

"It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres," he said.

His eyes locked with his uncle's, a man who had never stopped loving his sister even when she had left him. Amanda's love had pushed her to come halfway around the world to find and help them. His mother's love had been with him too, even after years and years of being apart, of not really understanding each other.

"Love never fails," he finished.

And that, that was something he could take away from this. Love hadn't made things easy for everyone in the room. Love had actually made things more difficult. Amanda had given up her home and her mother because she had other bonds of love and affection keeping her still. Charles had been forced to walk a lonely road, and Raven had been forced to give up her child.

But they had all come back, one way or another. They had all managed to climb their way out and, because of that, Kurt knew exactly what it was he wanted to do.

"I vant to stay here," he announced, "Vith mien family, vith ze voman I love. I vould like it very much if you vould stay here too mutter."

Raven swallowed, looking around. Her eyes finally met with Charles and, evidently, whatever she saw there gave her the strength to answer.

"I'll stay," she said, "At least for now."

Kurt smiled and he felt Amanda's hand grasp his tighter. He knew the road ahead of them was not going to be easy but he knew he could be patient. No matter what happened, he knew the could all make it.

After all, he knew the next part of the passage in the Bible by heart. He smiled to himself, the next words running through his mind.

 _And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love._

Kurt knew he all three of those things. With so much in his corner, Kurt very much doubted he would lose.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And that's the end! Thank you all for reading! After DOFP I really wanted to do a Kurt-centric fic that explored some of his darker origins. While I changed certain elements of his flight from Germany, he really did find out his foster brother, Stefan, was murdering children and snapped his neck in the ensuing fight. It was a difficult situation, especially considering that Kurt was in love with Amanda, Stefan's sister. _

_I also like Graydon as a bad guy, just because he's so frothing-at-the-mouth insane. I couldn't make him Kurt's actual brother like he is in the comics though, because the math just didn't add up. I love the movies, but their timeline is still a little weird._

 _My thanks go out to everyone who read and reviewed. I want to give a special shout out to savedbygrace94, Christmas 95, Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl, feathered moon wings, and Kyre! Thank you all!_


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